#but anyways... so if someone's muse were to ever offer him any there's like a 95% chance that he'll decline

[mad-hunts]

i was joking about this with ramone, but honestly... i think there may be some validity to the idea of barton smoking weed only one time in his life and never doing it again because it made him feel so chill, that he freaked out ☠️ like 'is this what 'normal' people feel like? because i don't know how to feel about this, or if i like it' LMAO

[yellowpsyduck]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤

𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥, 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬.

Thomas Shelby x Carleton!Reader Warnings: Smut, slight size kink, Tommy attracting posh girls as always

“Are you fucking my sister-in-law?” were the very first words that came out of the young socialite’s mouth. They were directed to the man dressed in the grey suit with the flat cap, as he caressed the grey filly in front of him. 

“Such crude words from such a lovely young lass, eh?” the man looked rather amused at her choice of words, much less, her more than direct approach of interrogating him.  

The words she’d spoken weren’t quite what he had expected from a girl of her caliber, she seemed far too proper to opt for such language. 

 But she held her ground that girl, with her fashionably short bob and her velvet dress that would probably fetch enough pounds to feed a small family for a week in Small Heath. She didn’t waver under his icy stare, nor did she retreat her questioning glare. In fact, to his surprise, she arched her carefully sculpted eyebrow, as though prompting him to explain himself. 

She must be a London girl, he noted, such brazenness could only mean that she must've lived a sheltered life, never having to put her guards up in fear of gangsters and certainly never having to do anything with filthy old Birmingham.  

No, all she had to do was look pretty and polite and pop open bottles of champagne, dancing the night away to the Foxtrot and Charleston. She didn’t have a clue who he was, didn’t have a clue what he did and certainly didn’t have a clue as to why he always kept a Webley MK VI in his gun strap. 

Tommy found it quite refreshing. He couldn’t remember the last time someone talked to him so incredibly audaciously, if it wasn’t to barrage him with threats to his life.  

“I believed I asked you first, Mister” came the reply from her tinted red lips, looking rather displeased that her question was met with another. 

“Well, a lady like you shouldn’t worry about adult matters.” he replied as he fished his pockets for the metal cigarette case. “Anyways, she's your sister-in-law you say?” he offered her a cigarette, a habit of his which he’d developed from constantly being surrounded by chain smokers. 

“She is, or she was.” she took him up on his offer, as he lit it up for her, “Ian was my brother. His passing was hard on all of us; for her more than anyone else. So, I come up here any chance I get to keep her company, but now I see that’s no longer needed of me.” she said as she eyed him from head to toe, sizing him up almost.  

“Don’t let me be a bone of contention now.” he replied, his couldn’t possibly add another trouble to his list, the Epsom and Major Campbell were already a handful, to say the very least.  

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite.” A hint of surprise glazed over his eyes as he looked at her delicate features. “I’m quite relieved she isn’t shutting herself up." she trailed off, "And you’re certainly not the worst pick for a suitor.” 

“Now don’t go sizing me up for a wedding suit, Miss.” he said taking another drag of his cigarette “May and I are just.... acquaintances. She’s training my horse for the Derby, this beauty over here, you see.” he motioned to the grey horse behind him. 

“Oh.” She looked at him with an abashed humour in her eyes. “Then you must pardon my poor choice of words. I’m sure you won’t take the silly musings of a girl to heart.”  

She flicked the cigarette bud to the ground, stomping it lightly with the heel of her dainty Mary Janes. 

“I’m Y/N. Y/N Vera Carleton.” she extended her hand to him, her lips adorned with the most dazzling smile he’d ever seen in his entire existence. He took her hands in his, their sizes differing starkly. “I’m Thomas. Thomas Shelby.” 

“Well then Mr. Shelby, now that the previous fiasco is behind us, I must be off. My friends will be waiting for me, I’m afraid. There's a new club in the city called the Babylon, you might’ve heard of it, they’ve invited this jazz band from the Colonies. My friends say it’s all the rage these days.” she explained to him. 

Thomas knew she was one of those girls. The ones that never had to worry about a thing in their lives, except for what they’d wear to a social dinner or what diamonds to pair with what dress and he knew that a part of him wished he could be as carefree as them. But life had other plans for him, a runaway father, a suicidal mother and a fucking war to top it all off. 

But now with the Shelby Company Ltd. and his copious side ventures, he hoped that one day, his children, if he ever found a woman that is, would have a life that mirrored that of the captivating girl in front of him.  

“All right then, Miss Carleton, you have a good night now.” he bid the girl farewell as he watched her leave the stables. Her dress swaying with every step she took, she looked very frail, he noted, but not the kind that you’d see in the streets of Watery Lane, more so the kind of frail that was in vogue amongst the ladies of London. 

As the night progressed, it became abundantly clear that May Fitz Carleton and Thomas Shelby weren’t just acquaintances, although, that should’ve been clear from the moment he accepted her proposal to stay the night in the manor, more like a fucking castle, he thought. 

As night fell, Thomas found himself striding to the doors of his gracious host's, she’d left it unlocked, of course. Neither were novice adolescents; they knew what they wanted, and they certainly weren’t abashed about it. Their business was completed rather quickly though, she seemed unable to fully open her heart out to the deed and he had a myriad of thoughts occupying his mind.  

Breakfast was a rather lovely affair. May chose not to bring up their late night discretions, for which he was rather thankful for. In fact, she seemed content with it being a passing liaison, finally someone that’s on the same page as him, he mused. 

The lavish spread of food in front of him was overwhelming and he resigned himself to an Earl Grey and a toast. It seemed it was just May that occupied the house, seeing as though they were the only two to grace the table. Their conversations were pleasant, ranging from their shared love for horses to the ones they would be up against at the Derby, when lo and behold, the doors to the room sprung open to reveal a particularly chirpy Y/N, what she would be so cheery for, this early in the morning, he didn’t know. 

“Morning, my dearest. Hope you had a lovely night.” The older of the two woman remarked as she kissed her cheeks. “I’ve told Louisa to prepare those Vienna rolls you so love. She should bring it out any minute.” she stated as the maids served the new occupant with a steaming cup of tea. 

“That would be lovely, God knows I’m terribly famished.” she strutted into the room, smelling of daisies as she walked past him and kissed her sister-in-law. “Morning to you, my dearest Mayflower.” 

She took the seat opposite to his, paying him no mind and absentmindedly blowing into her tea. “Y/N darling, this is Mr. Thomas Shelby, he’s my guest. I'm training his horse for Epsom. " She motioned to the gentleman. "Tommy, this is Y/N, she’s Ian’s sister and the youngest of the Carleton bunch.” 

 “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shelby.” quipped the younger girl, pretending as though they were truly meeting for the first time. 

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Tommy went along with her play, opting not to reveal their meeting the previous day. 

“Madam, there’s a telephone for you. It's from Sir Ascot.” May was quickly ushered out of the room to attend to her business, leaving the unusual pair together. 

“So, are you going to keep staring or will you tell me what’s on your mind?” Y/N remarked as she forfeited the staring game they’d had going on.  

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” the girl in front of him was intriguing for sure, and she wasn’t afraid to speak her mind. Tommy didn’t know other women besides Ada and Polly that would speak so nonchalantly with him, and he found himself quite enjoying this refreshing exchange. 

“Well, you’ve basically been undressing me with your eyes, since yesterday. So, shall we do it in my room or yours?”  

This. Tommy wasn’t expecting. 

He'd expected a whole lot of other things but not this. 

The girl didn’t bat an eye as she said those words, simply sipping on her tea, as though they’d only exchanged pleasantries with each other. Tommy was about to respond when a maid brought a plate of Vienna rolls to the table and diligently served her young Miss. 

As soon as her departing figure left the room, Y/N’s eyes darted back up to his, sucking slowly on the gold cutlery as she did. She seemed to be waiting for his reply and Tommy wondered how she’d react if he told her 'No'. Surely, such a girl as lovely as her wouldn’t be used to hearing those words of refusal. All she’d have to do was bat her pretty lashes, pout her soft lips and no one would dare refuse such a divine creature.  

And Tommy was by no means a saint. A posh girl like her asking him to fuck her wasn’t something that happened on the daily. And again, Tommy might be a man with great restraint, but he was a man after all.  

He'd be lying if he said his pants hadn’t gotten the slightest bit tighter at the sight of her sucking and licking on the spoon, that when he was balls deep inside May the previous night, all he thought about was the girl in front of him. Even now, as she sat in front of him, in her lace dress, he could see the slightest imprint of her breasts against the fabric of the dress.  

Tommy took in a deep breath, setting the teacup back on the porcelain saucer, when finally, he muttered “You don’t know who I am, do you, little girl?” For if she did, she wouldn’t have uttered those words, much less, even sip her tea so peacefully in his presence. 

“Should I care?” she asked in mock concern, “All I know is that you’re a well dressed gentleman that’s got a nice deep voice.” Truly, that was all she looked for. If a man had a deep enough pocket and an ever deeper voice, she’d go weak in the knees, and she knew May wouldn’t associate herself with a man that didn’t have the former. 

“Y/N Carleton, you’re truly a work of art, eh?” he chuckled, genuinely in awe of her intrepidity. 

“Well, that amongst other things.” came her quick reply, flashing him a cheeky smile. 

“Do you think she’ll notice? If were both absent from the table, that is.” he asked in reference to May, she sure as hell wouldn’t appreciate his advances towards her sister-in-law. 

“Don’t you worry, Sir Ascot is a hard fellow to deal with, he’ll talk her ear off for hours.” she stated unconcerned as she took strode out of the room, glancing back at him. 

“In fact, forget about the bedroom, there's a storeroom over there that’s unfrequented. God knows your staring is making me wild as it is.” She turned and left the room, the gentle sway of her hips beckoning him to follow her. And follow he did.

Thomas fucking Shelby following after a girl, his brothers would’ve had a field day had they learnt of it. 

But he didn’t care. All he knew was that he wanted her.  

He wanted to fuck her till she screamed his name. 

He wanted to fuck her till she couldn’t walk. 

He wanted to fuck her till she was a crying mess. 

The storeroom was quite spacious, like most of the rooms of this manor. But he wasn’t here to admire this. No. He came here for her. As soon as the latch to the door was shut closed, their lips crashed together. 

Oh! He could have had her then and there, her lips were so incredibly soft and moulded with his so fucking perfectly. Her hands found themselves in his hair and she tugged lightly, making him crazy at her touch, while his hands kneaded her supple buttocks. She might’ve been slim, but she was certainly well endowed in just the right areas. 

She soon broke the kiss and quickly worked to unbutton her dress, looking at him as he did, and that smile. That fucking smile of hers. Thomas didn’t know anyone more lovely than her. 

She stripped down to her chemise, her garter bands visible underneath. He couldn’t control himself at the sight of her lovely frame. His hands soon brought the straps of her flimsy cover down, exposing her delicate brassiere which was also discarded on the floor. 

She looked glorious standing in front of him, in just her garter bands and stockings. He would fuck her with those on he decided. The sight of her thighs in those were making the tent in his pants so painfully obvious. 

She undid his suspenders, kneeling down as she pulled his trousers down, freeing his throbbing red cock from it’s tight restraints. She blushed a little at the obscene sight, sure she’d seen her fair share of cocks, but none as majestic as his. Tommy Shelby had drawn him to her because of his deep voice, but his huge cock, now that was a brilliant surprise. The London chaps she’d been with just couldn’t compare.  

She licked the precum that was dripping from his tip, making him shudder in anticipation and little by little she licked the length of his entire shaft, making sure to drag her tongue along every crevice. She held her cock in both hands, it’s sheer size making her marvel. As Tommy looked down, the sight below him was eliciting a dark reaction inside of him, her little dainty fingers wrapped around his manhood. God! She looked so very small. 

She sucked his cock, trying her best to take in as much as she could. She was diligent, for sure, doing her best to make him happy, taking small breaths, accommodating her throat for his dick and working her hands constantly along his shaft or his balls. 

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” he breathed out raspily. She was an angel.  

An angel sent just to fuck him. He didn’t know any woman or whore that was doing the things she was. But here she was, a little thing like her milking his cock like a good girl. 

He grabbed her hair, lightly bucking his hips inside of her mouth. She seemed to be suffocating almost, his big dick choking her. Almost. 

“Just like that baby, just like that.” 

Fuck! She was such a good girl, holding her cries till he released his load inside of her mouth. “Swallow.” he commanded. She was a glorious mess, doing as he commanded her.  

Her eyes were watery, and her mouth was thoroughly abused, but she still looked at him with devotion laced in her beautiful eyes. 

He lifted her off the ground and laid her on the table like surface. He spread her legs wide open with his hands and marveled at the sight. Her throbbing cunt, glistening in arousal looked so warm, so inviting. He kissed her on the lips once more and dove in to eat her out, but a small hand covered the entrance.  

“She might be done soon, so, please just fuck me.” she cried, so obviously starved for him. 

He wasted no time and rubbed her clit, making sure her entrance was slick enough, and she was, so incredibly wet for him. He lined his dick to the entrance of her pussy and thrusted lightly. Just the tip he moaned. Just the tip and she was already on the verge of tears. 

“Just breathe, love. Just breathe for me, eh?” he cooed in her ear as his hips thrusted in small motions to enter her tight cave, rubbing her clit as he did. And then with a final thrust he entered her pussy. 

God! She felt so good. Her tight walls caved around his cock, stimulating him in ways he didn’t think possible. His motions became faster as her cries became louder. 

“Tommy!” she moaned over and over again, seemingly unable to formulate any coherent sentences, her brain clogged with the intense pleasure of his cock ramming into her.  

“You fit me so well, Y/N. I’m never letting go of you or your tight fucking pussy after this.” he moaned in her ear. 

The constant slapping of skin and unbridled moans didn’t leave much to the imagination of the maids and butlers that might’ve overheard, but they didn’t care. All they knew was that they were nearing their release and it just felt so fucking good. 

“Tommy, I’m close.” she managed to stumble out the words. 

“Wait for me, love. You’re gonna cum when I tell you to.” he groaned as he fastened his pace, evidently nearing his release. 

And with a final thrust, he whispered in her ear and they let go. They were quite the pair to look at. Him, with his trousers on the floor, his hands gripping onto her waists and his eyes never leaving hers and she, with her damn naked body, her tear streaked cheeks and her smudged lipstick. 

Tommy gave her a sweet kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her naked body as they remained in the warm embrace. Their heartbeats were gradually returning to usual, and their panted breathing became steadier. 

He retrieved a handkerchief from his pockets and delicately cleaned her sore entrance. The evidence of their lovemaking spilled lewdly on the floor; it was to be someone else’s problem, not theirs. He slipped the stained handkerchief into his pockets and helped her dress. She seemed incredibly satiated as she stared at him with sheer fondness in her eyes. 

Tommy knew that he couldn’t let go of her now. Not after this.  

She was his, even if she didn’t know it yet. 

“We best get going now, love.” he told her as he waited for her to gather herself together.  

“Wait, silly, you’ve got lipstick on your nose.” she giggled as she rubbed the scarlet red lipstick off for him, standing on the tip of her toes. 

She moved to open the door, but her steps felt awkward. He chuckled at her attempt to walk and offered his hand so she may lean on him. The walk back to the table was interesting, with her uncharacteristic gait and lipstick that seemed to have been smudged clean, and his hair that had been slightly disheveled and lips that held the faintest smile. 

Both looked nothing like they had a few moments prior. If the maids noticed the obvious change, they didn’t comment on it as they dutifully carried out their tasks, making the most possible effort to not offend the pair as they walked through the halls.  

May arrived a few minutes later rambling about how much she would’ve loved to cut the call halfway, had Sir Ascot not been an influential member of the Board. She had been so engrossed in her rant that perhaps, she didn’t notice the obvious change in the mood. 

She also didn’t notice the fact that Thomas Shelby’s eyes never once left her sister-in-law who insouciantly continued drinking her tea that was far too cold by now. 

“Well, May, my stay here has been lovely, but I best get going now.” he uttered at last, the business back at home didn’t wait for no one, especially not for him to fuck posh girls. 

“Indeed, I assume you must have your work cut out for you and oh! I forgot to tell you this morning that I’ve had your car stocked up with engine oil, so, it’ll be a smooth ride home.”  

“Thank you for that, May.” he put on his coat and thanked her for her gracious hosting. 

“Tommy.” she called out as he stepped into his vehicle. “Will I see you again?”  

“I’m sure we’ll cross paths again, Miss Carleton.”  

Miss not Mrs. because his eyes, as he spoke those words weren’t on the woman in front of him, but rather they were on the girl that stood at the doorway, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. 

Ah! That smile. 

The drive home was brisk, his mind occupied with the image of her and that darn smile. He may have been back in Birmingham, but he knew that apart of his mind had been left behind with a particularly charming girl in the Carleton Estate. 

[catcze]

No but ehat if like wriothesley had an s/o or maybe someone hes romantically interested in who he sees mostly in the fortress and then they go outside together one day and he's like "i never realized how beatiful you are in the sun" and hes all cute and blushin and shit OUGGH OUGH OUGH I'VE BEEN SHOT THROUGH THE HEART WRAAAAAGHHSHDH

OUGHHASDAS YOU AND ME BOTH U AND ME BOTH

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

When you set out on your day off, you weren't expecting to run into your boss— certainly not in a cafe, of all places.

"Your grace?" you ask hesitantly, approaching the table that Wriothesley and Sigewinne occupy. There's a litany of small desserts before them, as well as a teapot and two tea cups filled with rather aromatic tea. You run a hand over your top, trying to smooth any wrinkles that there may be. You certainly hadn't been expecting to run into him here! Oh, if you knew you would have dressed a little bit better. As it is, you were just here to hunt down an afternoon snack, and you certainly looked it.

But Wriothesley lights up at the sight of you, a small smile curling the edge of his lips. Sigewinne grins too, waving in welcome.

"Hello there!" She says pleasantly. "We weren't expecting to see you here!"

You chuckle. "Same here."

"But it seems like you've come at quite the opportune moment," Wriothesley says, beckoning you into one of the empty chairs of the table. He straightens a bit, slouching less in his seat, and leans forward on his elbows. That smile is still on his lips, and his gaze hasn't left you for a second. "I'm afraid we may have gone a bit overboard with our order. You'd be doing us a favor by having some." Sigewinne nods in agreement. You feel the blood rush to your face though, turning it warm.

"Oh, I couldn't impose like that, your grace—"

"Sure you can," Wriothesley's smile broadens then, and you get a hint of his canines in his smile. A slight hint of a dimple on his cheek. "I already said that you'd be doing us a favor, didn't I? Besides, you can drop the 'your grace' while we're here. Treat this like... a serendipitous meeting between friendly parties, rather than between coworkers."

And oh, if you thought that your face was warm before, it had practically doubled in temperature now. Not wanting him to hurry you any further, you plop in the seat. Sigewinne giggles, pouring you a cup of tea and handing it to you which you take with a word of thanks.

"Here," says Wriothesley. He gestures for you to hand him your plate, and as you do so, your fingers brush. It sends tingles up your arm, and you damn near drop the plate out of reflex. Wriothesley, judging by how he clears his throat, his ears turning several shades redder, is not unaffected either.

He fills the plate with lots of confectionaries, desserts, finger foods, and sandwiches, and all sorts of other things. Sigewinne points out some things for him to give you on occasion, and he happily takes her suggestion and gives you some. Well. You've certainly got your afternoon snack and thensome.

As Wriothesley hands the plate back to you, he pauses just as you've taken hold of the other side.

"You know... I think this is the first time I've seen you in broad daylight," he muses. His cheeks redden a bit, and he chuckles at himself under his breath. "The sunlight makes you look even more stunning than usual."

And you make an embarrassed noise, because archons, you might just be in need of medical assistance by the end of this, because there is no way the flipping of your heart is normal. You take the plate, looking down and away so he doesn't see your flustered expression, but he has anyway, if his small laugh is any indication.

"If you ever want to come back here, feel free to say so. My treat." Wriothesley offers, gazing at you with his chin resting on his palm. He looks at you like he never wants to look away. "I'd be happy to see you in this sunshine again, if you'd let me."

[onlyfreds]

Someday | E.M.

Title: Someday

Requested: Yes/No

Summary: A girl and an original, sounds like a fantasy, but nothing is impossible when it comes to love.

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I posted a fic, so hopefully this is half as decent as I hope it is and you guys like it

The story of a girl and her vampire: if any outsider were to hear the story, it would sound crazy, almost like some sort of fantasy.

Shutting the door of the taxi, you stepped out into the cobblestone streets and took a deep breath. 

“Finally.” You thought, having achieved your lifelong dream of moving to New Orleans. 

Lugging your suitcase behind you, you searched for the address of the place you’d be staying at. 

–

“And here is your room.” Cami, a friend from high school who’d you be staying with gestured to the guest room next to her own room.

“Thanks Cami. You’re the best!” You smiled, proceeding to give the girl a hug, “I promise I’ll move out the minute I find a more affordable apartment.” 

She laughed, “Nonsense, stay here as long as you like. Anyway, I have to go back to my shift at the bar now but when I close up, we can definitely go out for dinner.” 

“Sounds great! I can also help out at the bar if you want.” You offered. 

“Stop.” The blonde grinned, “You are my guest and you will do no such thing. Now go and unpack.”

“Fine. Fine.” You gave in with a playful eye roll.

–

“Does this place do deliveries? I don’t think I want to eat anywhere else ever again.” You took a sip of water making Cami laugh.

“I’m pretty sure they do.” She said as the waiter dropped off the bill.

While Cami was searching for her wallet in her bag, you pulled out some cash and hurriedly gave it to the waiter, “Take it before she finds hers.” 

Realizing what had just happened, Cami gave you a pointed look, “Y/N.” 

“Cami.” You mirrored her tone, giving her the same look, “It’s on me, I swear.”

“But-” She tried to protest. 

“Shh.” You interrupted, “You’re already practically giving me a place to stay, provided that I pay for my share for the water and electricity bills. Ever since I have arrived, you have been nothing but incredibly generous to me. Let me do this.” 

“Fine.” Cami gave in with a roll of her eyes, “But when you go to the bar, drinks are on me.” 

This made you smile, “Now who am I to turn down free drinks?” 

–

“Who are the Mikaelsons?” You asked after Cami had told you that you should come along to a party they were hosting that night. 

“They’re the most influential family in Orleans.” She said, ruffling through her closet in search of something to wear, “The Mikaelsons are practically like royalty.” 

You raised a brow in question, “So, they’re pretentious?”

“Not all of them.” Cami smiled, “Klaus is a little though, but the rest of them aren’t so.” 

Laughing, you said, “Can’t wait to meet them. I don’t have a dress though.” 

“There’s a boutique down the corner.” Cami said, “When can go take a look there if you want.” 

–

Cami sure wasn’t joking when she said that the Mikaelsons were like royalty. 

The compound you and Cami had just walked into was majestic and almost mansion-like. The lights that decorated the walls just seemed to make the place even bigger. 

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Cami said, noticing how awestruck and speechless you were.  

“First thought that came into my mind was ‘you’re joking’. But, after seeing this, I think it's not entirely impossible.” You said.

“Camille! Glad to see you could make it.” A deep and husky voice boomed from the corridor as the owner approached the two of you.

“Klaus.” Your friend smiled, “Nice to see you too.” 

“I see you’ve also brought a friend.” The man, or rather Klaus, mused before turning to you, “I’m sure that I’ve already been introduced by my entrance, so, may I know your name?” 

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled. 

“Niklaus.” A man in a suit came up next to Klaus, almost appearing out of thin air, “Are you causing someone an inconvenience again?”  

Klaus dramatically gasped, now turning his attention to the man next to him, “I’m offended at how you think I bother everyone.” 

“That seems to be the case, sometimes.” The man nods to Cami, “Camille.” 

He then turns to you, a small smile growing on his handsome face while he reaches for your hand and brushes his lips against your knuckles, “And may I be able to put a name to that beautiful face?” 

Giggling, you could feel the butterflies starting to stir, “I’m Y/N and you are?” 

“Elijah.” He answered.

“So, Y/N. May I have this dance?” Elijah asked, offering a hand to you.

Glancing over at Cami, she gave a nod along with a subtle wink.

“I would love to.” You grinned, taking his hand and he led you away from your friend.

That was where it all started, with two lonely hearts beating in the dark.

–

“Your company has been the best I’ve had in a while.” Elijah smiled as the two of you stopped in front of Cami’s house. Cami had disappeared with Klaus leaving you to fend for yourself.

“Glad to have been of service then.” You laughed.

“Hopefully, this isn’t the last time I’ll be catching any sight of your captivating presence.” He said. 

“I assure you, Elijah, you won’t be getting rid of me that easily.” You smiled.

The gentleman smiled as well, kissing along your knuckles the same way when you had first met earlier, “I’ll be counting on that.” 

–

“I’m home!” It’s been a month since your arrival to New Orleans, finally having signed a lease for your own apartment, the only downside was the fact that you couldn’t move there for another month.

“So, how was your date?” Cami came into the living room as you were kicking off your shoes. 

Rolling your eyes at her teasing, you retorted, “Cami, how many times do I have to tell you that it's’ not a date. Elijah and I just went to watch theater like friends do.”

“Yeah, friends do go to the theater but even a blind person could see how you and Elijah are a far cry from friends.” She said. 

You went to the kitchen to get some water, “Touche, I can literally say the same about you and Klaus.” 

Cami was immediately on your trail, “Klaus and I acknowledge our feelings. You and Elijah don’t. It seems like both of you have this intense fear of rejection. To be honest, the two of you would be a pretty amazing couple.” 

“Is my crush on him that obvious?” You asked, leaning against the door of the fridge.

“Even someone who doesn’t believe in the concept of love could see it.” She confirmed, throwing a teasing smile.

“Oh my-” You groaned, “Then this means that he knows as well.” 

Although Cami had been successful at holding back a laugh, a grin still appeared on her face as she fondly shook her head as a mother would, “You and him are the only people oblivious to each other’s feelings.” 

“Whatever.” You felt the heat starting to take over your face, “I’m going out, we’re out of milk.” 

“In the middle of the night?” Cami asked.

You started putting your shoes on, “No better time.” 

–

For the past half hour, you couldn’t stop thinking about what your friend had said, could Elijah possibly bear the same feelings for you?

Strangely, the city sounds and the gravel crunching under your feet didn’t distract you at all. But you couldn’t shake off the strange feeling you had, almost like your gut was telling you that something is…eerie. 

You could’ve sworn that someone had to be walking behind you but when you turned around, there was nothing but a gust of wind rattling the leaves.

Brushing it off as a figment of your imagination and the fact that it was almost midnight, you started on the way back home, how on earth did you think that a store would sell you some milk at this hour?

In an attempt to get rid of the chill that was running through your whole body, you tucked your hands into the pockets of your coat. 

Then, under a split second, you were suddenly thrown against the wall - feeling a bit dizzy from the impact. 

You kicked and tried to scratch the person but then the man holding you captive, grinned and flashed his fangs.

At first, you thought that you had gone mad. It was practically impossible for vampires to exist. Then the man’s eyes started to darken and the veins on his face became prominent as he said, “Guess I’m getting some dessert after all.” 

Nothing prepared you for this moment, in school, they never exactly taught what to do in case you run across a vampire (who also happened to not actually exist in the first place).

As the sharp points of the fangs inched closer, you braced yourself for the worst, hoping that you would jolt awake in your bed and find out that this entire thing was just some nightmare. 

The grip on your throat suddenly loosened as the man in front of you limply dropped to the ground.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” The husky voice of your savior pulled you out of your shock.

“Elijah?” If you thought that the prospect of vampires being real was enough of a surprise for a lifetime, wait till you are met with Elijah Mikaelson, seemingly wiping blood off his hands as a real heart lay discarded at his side while he asked if you were okay.

“Do you want me to walk you back to Cami’s?” He asked. 

“Did you just…” You started feeling dizzy, feeling completely overwhelmed with everything to be processed in the last few minutes, “pull his heart out?”

He was rendered speechless, not actually expecting that you would ask this. After a moment of silence, he answered cautiously, “Yes.” 

“H-how?” You asked, not really sure if you wanted to know the answer.

Elijah looked defeated as he offered a small smile, “Let me walk you back to Cami’s and I’ll explain everything once we get there.” 

In an attempt to lighten some of the tension, you asked, “Promise you won’t bite?” 

Elijah laughed, “Promise.” 

–

It’s been two weeks since you were told of the grand secret of New Orleans: that werewolves, witches and vampires not only roamed the streets but were also practically like royalty and the Mikaelsons happened to be called the “Originals” which are the very first vampires ever.

It’s also been two weeks since you had last seen Elijah Mikaelson. 

After doing everything, even dropping by the compound in desperate hopes that you would actually see him - it was almost like he was avoiding you.

Okay, he was actually avoiding you.

“Hello ‘Bekah.” You grinned as the blonde greeted you with a kiss to the cheek, ‘as the French do’. 

“This is exciting! We haven’t gone shopping in ages.” She asked with a mirroring smile, looping her arm around yours almost dragging you to the shopping center. 

–

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, did you and Elijah have a fight or something?” Rebekah asked out of the blue while browsing the dresses. 

“No. Why?” You replied.

“The two of you just seem so awfully distant lately.” She said, “And Elijah’s been in some kind of somber mood, he practically just shuts himself in his room all day. It’s Klaus who normally does that.” 

“He’s been avoiding me for two weeks, ever since the incident with a vampire.” You said. 

She raised a brow in question, “What incident?” 

“You mean he didn’t tell you?” You then recounted how you discovered the secret that lies beneath the streets of New Orleans.

–

Taking a deep breath, your fist hung an inch away from the door to Elijah’s room. After telling Rebekah the whole story, she pestered (and almost dragged) you to go to Elijah and talk it out.

You were about to knock when the door suddenly swung open. Elijah Mikaelson stood there, in a white shirt and pyjama pants, looking very much surprised. 

“Y-Y/N? What’re you doing here?” He asked once he had finally come around. 

“I’m worried.” You admitted, “You’ve been avoiding me for two weeks. I had no idea if something had happened to you or if you were mad at me or something. 

“I’m a vampire, an Original vampire, for goodness sake.” Elijah said, “I’m a monster, Y/N/N, I could hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“‘Lijah, what’re you talking about? You’re anything but a monster. You’re literally the sweetest person I know.” You protested. 

“Aren’t you terrified by the prospect that I was transformed into a creature that feeds off of blood? A creature that nearly killed you?” 

“I’m not and you wanna know why? Because I know the real you and you’re far from just a vampire.” 

“But-” Before he could utter another word you suddenly pressed your lips to his, effectively shutting him up.

“That was.” Elijah grinned as he found it difficult to find the words to describe just how perfect it was. 

You giggled, looping your arms around his neck, “If you’re going to pick back up on your monologue, I’m seriously kicking you.” 

The vampire chuckled, “I can’t seem to recall what the topic was anymore.” before pulling you in for another kiss.

–

The sun was shining, the air was cool, and all the factions of New Orleans were at peace - nothing could seem more perfect.

Especially with your arm looped around Elijah’s. 

“It feels like eternity since I last saw this.” Elijah mused. 

“Saw what?” You asked. 

“This.” He emphasized, “Everything is at peace, almost as if we were in some sort of paradise.” 

Looking up at him with a smile, you said, “As long as I’m around you, everyday is paradise.”

The original chuckled, pecking a kiss to your cheek, “Now look who’s stealing my lines.” 

“What?” You feigned offence, “Would you rather someone else did?” 

“Never in a million years.” Elijah answered.

–

“Where is she? Bring me to her, this instance!” Elijah almost screamed as he bursted through the doors of the compound.

“Elijah, you need to calm down, she’s okay.” Rebekah said in an attempt to console her brother. 

“I saw her, Rebekah, I know she isn’t okay - it’s my fault, I need to see her.” Her older brother pleaded. 

“She’s in the guest room with Cami.” 

As soon as the blonde uttered these words, Elijah ran to the room in question, “Camille! How is she?”

Cami shushes him, “She’s okay Elijah, her injuries looked worse than they actually were, she’s just resting now.” 

The original breathed a sigh of relief as he sat down on the seat Cami had been occupying earlier while nursing you, “Thank you Cami, I’m sorry for what happened.” 

Cami gave him a reassuring smile, “It’s not your fault Elijah, none of us would’ve seen it coming.”

She then left the room, closing the door behind her to give you and Elijah some privacy.

“Y/N, you shouldn’t be here, go home, it’s too dangerous.” Elijah said the moment he saw you.

“I can’t Eli, I can’t stay home knowing  that all of you are out here.” You protested. 

“It’s too dangerous out here, you could get seriously hurt and I don’t want that.” He argued. 

Before you could argue any further, Elijah immediately vampire-sped you to a secluded part of the area, “Stay here and don’t come out unless you are in grave danger or I come to pick you up.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly pressed a kiss to lips, “Little advice, getting stabbed with the white oak stake, because that will surely get you killed.” 

Despite the ongoing battle, Elijah managed to smile, “I’ll take note of that then.”

–

Elijah would surely lecture you for this, that is if the both of you make it out of this alive. 

It feels like actual torture to just stand around and wait for the battle to be over, so naturally, you ignored what Eliah had tol you and set out to fight.

Setting aside the tragedy, the whole scenery almost looked like something out of a movie - the blood splattered everyday could’ve been enough to stage a couple of crime scenes, hearts lay discarded, almost indistinguishable figures moved in and out and fortunately, no one has noticed you.

That’s when you saw it, Lucien with the white oak stake in his hand, ready to stab an unsuspecting Elijah busy fighting another vampire. 

So, you did the natural thing and took the stake for him.

Elijah closed his eyes, he could still remember the way his senses told him that something was wrong a little too late, the way the blood soaked your shirt, your pained scream.

He was supposed to protect you, how could he let that happen?

“Elijah…” He suddenly heard the voice he so desperately wanted to hear. 

“Y/N/N,” Elijah stood up, stroking your hair, “How’re you feeling?” 

You smiled at him, “I’m feeling fine, shoulder’s just a bit sore.”

“I’m sorry,  I should’ve been able to protect you, I was supposed to keep you safe. How do I manage to kill every woman I love?” He said.

“It’s not your fault, you protected me, you literally had me hide in a safe place. I was the one who walked into the battlefield.” You insisted. 

A slight pout formed on Elijah’s lips, “But you still got hurt, you literally got stabbed. I should’ve just brought you back to the compound first.” 

“And let you get stabbed with the white oak stake? Not a chance.” You laughed. 

“But you got hurt.” 

“And you’re alive, would you rather it be the other way around?” 

“I don’t like it when you get hurt.” 

“I told you to avoid the white oak stakes.” 

You sighed, intertwining your hands, “Eli, I’m not a damsel in distress, I appreciate that you want to protect me but know that I can also protect you. It’s basically just give and take.” 

“For as long as I can remember, I’ve always protected everyone I loved.” He said.

“Then, me and your family will always be here to protect you.” You answered.

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 17.

Summary: Learning little things, and big things, on these summer days. About each other, and how the world sees you all, in the garden, in the family room, in hindsight, in the study late at night.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: reader, felix, venetia, and oliver getting high in the garden together, some degrading language (kind of a given any time venetia and reader are in the same room at this point), heavy discussion about the reader's parental trauma/neglect

A/N: 5812 words. i think i cast venetia in a bad light sometimes which i feel bad about because i love her to pieces, and she and the reader love each other very much its just that she's gotten used to being arguably too verbally prickly with them in order to rile her brother up mostly, and she forgets (and maybe i do too) what that looks like from the outside. anyways, just for absolutely no reason whatsoever, have you ever looked up what different flowers mean in flower language? much to think about.

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Venetia rolls her joints with little hearts at the end where the filter would go if it were simply a cigarette. It's a trick she learned during what she calls her 'gap year', what Elspeth calls her 'grand wine tour of Europe', and what Felix and Farleigh have recently started cruelly referring to as 'the year Venetia inspired a TV show'. While you do think it's mean, you also quietly agree that Billie Piper bares a striking resemblance to the young Catton woman in the ads you'd seen for Secret Diary of a Call Girl. Cruel implications is all you would say on the matter, not that either of the boys had been game enough to say it to her face.

But the thought floats through your mind in this moment, taking just a moment to admire the way she's expertly curled the paper before you bring it to your lips. She watches you with that smile that tends to intimidate others, sharp and mean and hungry, sharp gaze on your lips as you inhale, lips remaining sealed as you offer the next hit to Felix on your right. Venetia's focus follows the joint, straying from you to admire the way her brother takes a hit before he too passes it on to Oliver.

Felix muses to no-one in particular about how long it's been since he'd been out here to the Fairy Ring Garden, but only gets a response from Oliver, and a strained one at that as your guest holds smoke in his lungs as long as he's able, muttering that it's beautiful. Sitting on the grass in the morning sun, you squint at the iPod in your hands, trying to choose some music.

Venetia suggests Amy Winehouse. Felix calls his sister tragic under his breath, to which she flips him off. Still, it's the best suggestion you've got so far, so moments later, the singer's rich vocals warble out of the little, portable speaker you'd plugged into the headphone port.

"Good dog," Venetia says with a particularly mean sneer in her brother's direction as she takes the iPod out of your hands to place it on the grass, replacing it with the joint you'd all been passing around once more. Out of instinct, you place your free hand on Felix's chest, telling him that whatever reaction he was going to have really wasn't worth it. Venetia rolls her eyes, "boo, you whore," she snarks, laying back on the grass.

"I'm taking the rest of this as compensation for emotional damages," you hold the joint between two fingers, telling Felix to just roll another from the kit still sitting in the middle of the impromptu circle the four of you had made. Much to both yours and Felix's surprise, Oliver moves too quickly to let him, rolling with the air of someone who'd seen it done often without having done it himself.

Both you and Felix watch him for quite a while as he stumbles through the task like a baby deer taking it's first steps. Things are getting fuzzy and warm around the edges already, and you're caught up in watching the way Oliver's hands work.

"Why 'd you put up with her?" Oliver asks bluntly, frowning at his work. Venetia's indignant 'hey' goes otherwise ignored by the three of you and it takes a long moment for Felix to respond.

"She's my sister?" But in his confusion it sounds more like a question, talking about Venetia like she's not even there. But Oliver stops, and finally looks at him; he offers a rather sad looking, clearly unfinished joint, not as an offering but as a silent request for help. Felix takes it and tries not to look too endeared by Oliver's failed attempt as he fixes it.

"Not you, Felix," Oliver, after a moment, looks away from Felix, right to you, eyes wide and earnest as he watches you take a long draft of your own joint, now burned well down. His gaze makes his intentions clear, but still he offers, "she's mean to you too." Too, like he'd pointed out about Farleigh all those months ago.

"They like it," Venetia scoffs at the sky dismissively, but Oliver refuses to acknowledge her, even if Felix takes a moment to scowl at his sister and her constant, casual degradation of you. But a slow, amused smile spreads across your lips in the moments that follow, you can't help it.

"I love that you worry about me, Ollie," you sigh almost dreamily. Clearly not expecting that, you have the pleasure of watching Oliver blush with surprise, "you're so fucking pretty, Ollie," you add, though you're pretty sure you couldn't have stopped yourself from saying that out loud if you tried. He blushes harder, while Felix and Venetia both try and stifle their giggles; you take another hit, tilting your head just a little as you look at him, analysing him. Finally, when you ask his favourite flower out of seemingly nowhere, Oliver seems like he can't function under your gaze like this, and chooses to lay back in the grass, mirroring Venetia.

"Darling, you're such a lightweight," Felix snorts, speaking from the corner of his mouth as he holds the rerolled joint between his lips as if intending to light it. Before he can flick the lighter on, however, you take his chin gently in hand, guiding him to you, pressing the still-glowing end of your own joint to his unlit one for several long seconds, until his caught successfully.

When you and Felix join your companions in laying back on the grass, you do so together. His arm is around you, coaxing you to lay with your head on his chest, beside him under this perfectly blue sky.

"Why would you want to know something like that?" Oliver's voice reminds you he's there only moments later.

"Because their robot brain needs to know everything about everyone at all times," at least Venetia sounds fond when she chimes in, even if her words aren't exactly the most complimentary.

"You're lucky you're pretty, Vee," Felix cuts in with a casually cruel tone; you can feel the way he twitches with irritation, "because you have so few other redeeming features."

"I am pretty," Venetia agrees airily, pointedly ignoring his insult, "you're such a darling brother, Felix," she adds with painfully sarcastic faux-sweetness. Felix's only response was to sigh with incredibly loud disappointment, while you tried to stifle your giggling, caught up in the sensation of him tracing abstract patterns up and down your arms, and the idea that you could count on the ever-relaxed Felix Catton to always come to your defence. Had this been the case for years? Over a decade? Yes. Would it always make you a little bit giddy to think about? Almost definitely.

"And it's not like I'm wrong," Venetia finally broached the silence once more, "as if they don't already know our favourite flowers," she points out, before making a rather insistent noise. You bark at her command, it seems - those cheerful little yellow ones on the inner ring of flowers - dismissive, but the sound of her scoff has you correcting yourself, suddenly feeling a sting of shame and not quite knowing why.

"The chrysanthemums." The other three echo the name of the flower, one right after the other, all taking turns to turn it over in their minds and mouths as you almost burn your fingers finishing off your joint. As if trying to prove yourself, you add, interrupting them all, "Fi's are forget-me-nots."

Felix seems surprised to agree, like even he'd forgotten that detail about himself, or perhaps forgotten that he'd shared it with you, while Venetia's laughter has turned fond and knowing; it's a little condescending too, like she'd expected as much from you, but you try not to dwell on it. It's Oliver's voice that you focus on, endeared as he quietly murmurs the name of the flower to himself, like he can't quite believe something as soft as Felix having a favourite flower.

"Now I'm curious, Ollie," Felix finally speaks up, and you hear the grass shift beneath his head. He must be turning to look at the man in question, "do you have a favourite flower?" He pauses for a moment, "or is this one of our weird things, like wearing cuff-links to dinner every night?" He tries to play it off, but there's those notes of self consciousness that you're surprised he often gets when talking about tradition around Saltburn.

The grass near Oliver rustles, but your comfort overrides your intrigue to watch him.

"I think it's fox... Something?" Oliver says after a moment, "my favourite flower," he clarifies, "I haven't put much thought into it," he admits. You hum thoughtfully before asking if it could be foxglove. He confirms as much before going quiet.

There's a lull that follows in which Felix asks after Farleigh's whereabouts. Farleigh should be here, your hazy mind immediately chirps, you love Farleigh! Venetia sighs, sounding incredibly put-upon to be explaining that Farleigh was in the computer room, obsessing over his ex-boyfriend's MySpace updates that he'd missed lately. The ones about the tour.

"The guy from that Broadway show?" Felix asks with vague interest.

"No, his ex-girlfriend is touring with that Broadway musical, that he knows about, that he at least pretends he doesn't care about," Venetia corrected, "the ex-boyfriend is that one from that band, the one who wrote that song about him that got nominated for that award?"

"Grammy," you supplied automatically.

"Right," Venetia barely acknowledged you, "anyways, he's on that big, American tour with all those tragic, emo bands that are a big deal, which is apparently news to our dear cousin."

"Is that the one we were all talking about getting tickets to a few months ago?" Felix asks after a moment of silence, patting you on the arm as if his words weren't enough to get your attention. You hum in confirmation.

"I think so; The Warped Tour, we were going to make a vacation of it in LA this summer," you sighed rather forlornly at how the idea never got off the ground, "it was Anabel's idea -"

"- God, she's always been such a groupie for those kinds of boy-band-types -" Felix mutters derisively under his breath as if he hadn't spent the better part of two semesters inviting her to his dorm to listen to him play guitar knowing full well she'd practically be on her knees at the very suggestion. So of course you ignored that aside to finish your explanation.

"- except she turned around and said she hated the line up, when really she didn't want to admit her passport expired and she couldn't be bothered with the paperwork for a new one -"

"Actually," Oliver chimes in, though you're not sure if he was adding to the conversation, or if he'd even been listening, "when I was a boy I got to go to this botanical garden that had all these fancy flowers usually from the rest of the world." Oh. Flowers again? Sure. "There were these ones that got flown in from Australia, and I couldn't help thinking that they weren't worth it to fly all the way over here from Australia. Too long and curly and pointy; pretty, but not the kind that..." something about the way he speaks about the experience, about the flowers, it catches in your mind; Australian, long, curly, pointy, pretty, you tried to commit to memory, "that's worth spending your time on." He clears his throat and his tone seems almost forcibly lighter, "foxgloves are prettier, wouldn't you think? Yeah..."

Silence hangs between you all for several long, pensive moments.

"What colour were they?" You ask softly.

"Foxgloves?" Oliver knows you don't mean the foxgloves. He asks anyways. Everything always for the sake of the act, the pantomime of propriety.

"No."

"Red."

There is no more that needs to be said in the moment, but later you will be grateful when the details stick through the haze of your memories. Through the quiet, Venetia mentions how she misses the purple pincushions, how sweet and strange they were, and how cruel you have been to order the gardeners to prune the flowers before they can ever bloom.

The mere mention of those purple fucking pincushion flowers sours your mood; your one regret amongst your garden, a conceit to Felix that even he wishes he could take back knowing now how much you'd end up hating them. It's been a year since a single purple pincushion has bloomed in your garden, and you've been down here at least once a day all Summer, meticulous, pruning the bulbs yourself with much malice aforethought. Part of you is so filled with fury in this moment that you consider going over and uprooting the plants by hand right now, but Felix's arm around you, Felix's chest, solid and warm beneath your head, Felix's steady heartbeat in your ear, he grounds you.

For now you must simply remain content knowing that none of Eddie's precious, purple pincushions will ever bloom upon the grounds of the Saltburn Estate again.

"Venetia," expression pinched, you address her with far more coldness than you think you've ever directed towards her before, "shut up."

You don't remember when exactly during the day you asked Duncan to fetch you all the botany-related books in the house that made mention of plants native to the Asia-Pacific region. Knowing yourself, and knowing Duncan, however, you're not surprised by the small, neat stack you find the following evening on your desk in the lilac study.

While you fully intended on continuing your trend of wearing something provocative and continuing the pantomime of propriety with Oliver as the two of you had been doing each night for almost a week, Sir James raises the suggestion of a family movie night instead. Felix whines when Venetia and Farleigh champion the suggestion of a scary movie, and pouts when they bully Oliver into agreeing with them.

"Don't ask them," Farleigh groans when you're called upon for your opinion, "they're just going to say whatever Felix said but in a different voice," he rolled his eyes. You and Felix both choosing to flick little pieces of cantaloupe at him from your desserts does nothing but strengthen his argument.

Nobody thinks to ask Poor Dear Pamela her opinion, sitting at the end of the table, looking less than thrilled by the suggestion of The Ring, so everyone else decides that you and Felix are out numbered. On the way back to your rooms to change out of your dinner clothes, Oliver tries to apologise, and Felix tries to pretend that it's fine and he's just putting it on for Venetia and Farleigh and that he absolutely does not have the temperament of a rabbit when it came to anything scary. He is, of course, lying. But Oliver doesn't realise that just yet.

Venetia, always invigorated by a social triumph such as this, and never one to let a well-earned moment of joy pass her by, tucks her arm in Oliver's as the family meets back up in the living room. The moment is not missed by either you or Felix, who both glower at her bold display of affection as she ignores you and pulls Oliver onto the sofa. The large, plush armchair next to the sofa, with it's wide, low arms almost fits both you and Felix, though it's more of a token gesture than anything. No-one is surprised when he pulls you into his lap less than ten minutes after the film begins, arms around you and watching with his chin on your shoulder, ready to hide his face against your shoulder at a moment's notice.

When the film ends and the lights come back on, Venetia finally notices how you and her brother are sitting, and opens her mouth with malicious intent in her eyes.

"Watch it," you warned her before she could say any choice, disparaging remarks, "remember who's kept you off of What Not To Wear the past six years," you remind her; Felix, giving you a little squeeze, levels a smug smile at his older sister over your shoulder. Venetia closes her mouth, expression immediately turning.

"I can't believe they're still making that show," she spits, stalking from the room. Farleigh, finally getting up and stretching, follows her out at a far more relaxed pace.

"I can't believe they're still fighting Y/N to put you on it."

With those two having left, Elspeth and Pamela both give you curious looks, Elspeth asking if it was true. You confirmed as much with a blithe shrug, finally getting to your feet.

"Years ago one of the hosts was trying to track Ven down after seeing her on a red carpet and word got back to dad - or, well, his assistant at the time - and he remembered that I'm pretty close with the Cattons," you gave a humourless smile, offering Felix your hand to help him up from the sofa, which he gladly took, "however Ven was deeply offended when I asked her if she wanted to be on the show," Felix let himself chuckle at that, while Oliver was taking longer to stand, strange look on his face as he listened to you with surprisingly rapt attention.

"And they've been, what, continuing to ask after her even though she's said no?" Elspeth frowned, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"No, apparently Ven sent in a particularly rude letter despite me informing them of her refusal, and now dad's assistants seem to think I'm her agent and I get a call every time the show is threatening to add her photo to a montage of worst-dressed celebrities."

"Didn't she freak out when you refused to get an episode pulled when they actually did it?" Felix snorts, to which you rolled your eyes.

"That's why dad's assistants keep calling me, because of how she reacted to that episode."

You do feel a little bit bad for Venetia in this moment, when you see the resigned disappointment in both her parents' eyes at the story. The rest of you do finally filter out at this point, all heading back to your separate rooms. The walk is quiet for the most part, except for when Oliver, who'd been looking as though he was ruminating very hard on something, looks to you.

"Y/N, what does your dad do for work?"

You know and hate that Oliver sees the moment in which his question makes you uncomfortable, no matter how much you try to not let it, nor how desperately you try to hide it. Shrugging as you desperately shoot for casual, you sigh.

"I'm pretty sure your guess is as good as his," you say blithely, so casually evasive that Oliver doesn't really think to call you out on it before you get to your room. But after you and Felix wish him good night and head into your room, you close the door and slump against it with a heavy sigh. Felix lets you have this moment of respite to yourself, quietly moving about the room, getting ready for bed.

"Do you think they'll even show up?" Finally Felix breaks the silence, and you just make a vague noise, "to the dinners they told mum they'd be at," he clarified after a beat.

"Probably," you muttered, dejected at the prospect as your mind wanders to the couple who reluctantly created you.

"They asked about you," you admit to Felix quietly. From what you can hear, he stops, "mum, specifically," the memory of the phone call with your grandmother burned bright in your mind; it wasn't particularly recent, had happened at the start of your last semester, but you'd kept it to yourself for so long. You'd tried to disconnect yourself from it, tried to take solace in your grandmother's fury on your behalf, but you feel your face heat up with your own anguish, "asked how you were and if you were still living in 'that beautiful house with the Reubens and all those royal portraits'," voice trembling with both heartache and resentment, you slide down the door, tears welling even as you had your eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"Nan sounded so angry when she told me," you whispered, knees drawn up to your chest, "I've never heard her like that; she made it sound like she yelled at mum for- for- for ages -" you feel when Felix settles down beside you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. This is when you finally break, when you finally let yourself cry, whimpering, "but I bet mum just hung up on her the minute she felt like the fucking victim."

Felix isn't the one who needs to be apologising right now, but part of you knows you'll never get one from the people you crave it the most from. Still, he apologises with his lips against your temple. You know your best friend well enough to know his heart is breaking for you, and fuck you wish you had been strong enough to push back this breakdown, but you couldn't -

"She asked for you by name, Fi, full name," you sobbed curling up in his arms, burying yourself against him in your misery, "they haven't spoken to me or about me in eleven years; they haven't even said my name- they've acted like I don't exist to everyone - everyone - even to my own grandmother for eleven years!"

There's no easy sleep that can be found after a revelation like this, but Felix, even after he manages to drift off, is unwilling to let you go, unwilling to let you feel even the slightest bit alone for the rest of the night. It continues through the next day, even as you assure him you're fine, that you're glad for his comfort but that you've overcome the despair that had hit you so tremendously last night. It's not even much of a lie.

You spend the day with the family who'd taken you in without hesitation, and feel a swell of pride within you as you hear Oliver comment enthusiastically on the Palissy plates Sir James had always loved dearly. You yourself vaguely recall the plates getting a page to themselves in the very book you'd gifted Oliver about Saltburn, so you were glad to see him putting it to good use.

A little white lie about how deep Oliver's love for Palissy genuinely was really wouldn't hurt anyone. Honestly, it was worth it for just how brightly Sir James' eyes shined at one of Felix or Venetia's friends finally taking an interest in his antiquities like that.

But all day, Felix was never too far away. Not that he was incredibly obvious about it, at least not from anyone else's perspective, but you could tell. Quietly, you were grateful, even if you were still trying to convince the both of you that you were okay. Something about being able to just lean back and know he'll be there in times like this, times where you need him to be there but don't know how to say it out loud, is a comfort you never want to take for granted.

You want to thank him but it gets caught in your throat. But standing on his balcony as the sun sets, sharing a cigarette, you take his free hand for this one, quiet moment. Your voice is full of affection, full of thanks, full of love, too much for you to even look at him, focus kept on your hands, your fingers laced with his.

"My Felix."

"Always, love," he kisses your forehead.

That night, the only time you are without him is when you end up in the lilac study, wondering if Oliver will even show up after last night broke the tradition. Either way you'd use the time to continue to go through your botany books on the hunt for red, curly, pointy, Australian flowers. You keep seeing bottle brush but something in your heart said it wasn't right. However long you'd actually spend perusing the books tonight would depend on if you had company.

But eventually Oliver does choose to darken the doorway with that hungry-eyed stare you've never seen in the light of day, and you take your time with noticing him. Tonight you're lounging on the cream sofa in one of Felix's shirts, not even bothering to do the buttons up; you've pulled it mostly close for a pass at modesty, considering the only other thing you're wearing is underwear.

"'re you seducing me?" He sounds amused; you're surprised by how quickly he cuts to the chase, but you try not to let it show.

"Is it working yet?" You turn another page of your book before you finally look up, playing almost at boredom. Oliver, barely visible for the lamp light, the gallery beyond him nothing but shadows, huffs a laugh at that, and for reasons you can't quite understand, he drops his gaze. He breaks the moment, the rules of the game. Oliver doesn't look away, he never has before.

"You trying to get me in trouble?"

"Depends on what you consider to be trouble," your smile grows wider as you carefully set your book to the side, fixing your intrigued gaze upon Oliver properly, "perhaps I'm saving you from trouble." In a sense, the more nights you can get him to spend here with you, the less he's falling prey to Venetia's planting herself beneath his window you're sure she's doing, just as she had with Eddie a year ago. At least this time you've learned.

"I think you may very well be the trouble," Oliver looks up, just in time to see your wicked, delighted grin.

"Then I am definitely trying to get you in trouble," you don't even hesitate before firing off the inuendo, smiling wide and proud at your own quick wit. The sight of Oliver's very genuine smile and laugh catches you off guard too; it'd been so long since you'd seen it, you forgot how taken you were with him when he lit up like that. Then, as the laughter died down, Oliver walks in, he sits with you, lets you lean against him.

"You've been saying a lot of..." he hesitates, turning to you. Oliver wears a strange, lopsided smile, but from the corner of your eyes you see something reserved in his gaze as he takes in the sight of you in this moment, "generous things about me." He's too close to miss the way your breath catches. Venetia and Farleigh are dirty fucking snitches, "'s alright-" he tries, but there's clearly some kind of reservation in his voice as he staves off your stammered apology, "knew what I was getting into, didn't I?"

With Oliver's arm around you, you can't help but wonder aloud -

"Did you?"

"I thought I did," he admitted softly, and you tipped your head onto his shoulder, then you feel him shift, feel his lips on your forehead and voice soft, "I think I thought I'd be alright anywhere if I was with Felix." For reasons you try very hard not to think about in this moment, Oliver's words sting.

"Oh," it almost gets caught in your throat; your traitorous heart sinks in your chest for just a moment. Except Oliver gives you a squeeze, holds you tight as he seems to realise his mistake.

"Of course you're a given," it almost salvages the moment, and of course you feel as though you have to act like it does, but there's something tight and unfamiliar balling up in your chest. "Felix loves you," Oliver sounds almost wistful, words coming out more like a faint breath, but perhaps it's this strange new feeling in your chest that makes him harder to read in this moment.

"He loves you too, Ollie," you tell him, forcing yourself to inject some levity into the moment. This time it's you who moves, who turns your face to Oliver, forehead against his as you muster up the warmest smile you can manage, pressing against him, making a show of overwhelming affection, "we both do," of course, your tone says, obviously.

And Oliver actually giggles at that, so it must work. In the next moment he's pulled you into his lap. It's so easy for you to readjust, to fit in his arms, in his space, against him, like it's where you were always meant to be.

"Is that you talkin' or Felix talkin'?" Oliver asks finally when you've got your arms settled around his neck, "I don't mind, I'd just like to know."

"What 'd you mean?" You ask, curious about the wording and it's implications. Oliver visibly hesitates, though he seems more embarrassed for whatever was about to come out of his mouth than anything else.

"Speakin' with Venetia made me realise how little I actually know about you," Oliver says carefully. Almost immediately your expression sours, and a long, exasperated sigh is pulled from you, "she's a deeply confusing woman, isn't she?" He adds almost like an afterthought, and you barked a quiet laugh.

"That is a very kind way of putting it," you offered diplomatically after a beat, before letting go of Oliver and leaning yourself back against the arm of the sofa, considering your next words carefully. His hands come to rest on your stomach, but you're surprised when he does up two of the buttons of Felix's shirt, providing you with a little more modesty. Then, his hands come to rest on your stomach and thighs, warm and unmoving.

"You're a deeply confusing individual yourself," Oliver pushes softly, "when I think about you too much, I realise there's not much to think about, least nothin' you've told me," and you hum noncommittally, looking up at the ceiling. The next words that escape you are from a script you'd thought was long buried.

"Yeah but that's kind of the point; I'm not really meant to matter, or be looked at, or thought about -" the words seem to shock even you, eyes going wide as you look to Oliver. The intensity of his stare has your heart hammering against your ribs as you try to back pedal, "sorry- that's not- I mean- sorry, that's really not, anymore that is -" you didn't even believe that anymore, right? Your place in the world as impressed upon you by your own parents for the first ten years of your life. Surely having spent more time by now with Felix and the Cattons than you ever had with them was enough to rewrite a good deal of the cruel way in which you'd been hardwired.

Oliver reaches out, caressing your cheek with that confident smile he only ever seemed to wear when the sun couldn't see him. He tells you that you matter, with absolute sincerity. Then, expression lightening to something fond, even teasing, he warns you not to let Felix catch you talking like that, that his love for you was the kind that would have him throwing a parade just to prove that self-doubt wrong. It was a nice mental image, if only for a moment. You, Oliver, Felix, not necessarily a parade for you per say, but a mess of colour and joy and music in the city, together and happy and -

"I don't know if you'd want that," Oliver's grin is fading, and finally you sit back up, let yourself be wrapped up in him as he continues to trail his fingers across the edge of your face, down your throat, across your collar, "but then again Venetia thinks you don't even know how."

"How what?" Voice barely more than a whisper, you know he can feel how quick your heart's beating, his hand flat and warm on your sternum.

"How to want for yourself, 'least not anything outside of Felix," he keeps his gaze trained on his hand, heel of his palm pressing firmer just over your heart, "which is why I asked; you said you loved me, is that you or Felix talking when you say that?" And finally he looks at you. That tight, sharp feeling in your chest spikes when he meets your gaze. He looks so earnest, so open, so ready for either answer.

But you stand, leaving both yourself, and Oliver's lap cold, but hoping your smile is warm enough compensation. Except you can hear in his voice that he believes Venetia; she'd confirmed what he'd suspected, it's what he left unsaid the night you'd slept with each other. The only thing you wanted was so easily met; to be wanted, and seemingly content with nothing more outside of Felix. A contented sycophant, easy to please and happy to be used; you knew the world was happy with this being your place in it.

And the more you think about it, the more you think Oliver is too.

"Of course it's Felix," you tell him what you're almost certain he wants to hear. No need to scare him off with the expectations of your own feelings on his shoulders. Oliver watches you for a long moment, simply observing as you smile wider, and hope that it comes across as adoring, "which means of course I do love you too, that's a given, Ollie." The sharp discomfort is scraping at your ribs, more painful with each word, hollowing out your chest moment by moment, so you bid him good night, unable to bare the conversation for much longer.

"Just one favour, by the way, if you could," you add by the door. He makes a noise of intrigue, but you can't even bring yourself to look at him. It'll be another just person looking at a placeholder while they're waiting for Felix to be ready to love them back. Usually you don't mind. Usually it's enough and you can still enjoy their company and have your fun. But they aren't Oliver Quick, "just... please refrain from properly fooling around with Venetia? I know I sound like a hypocrite but," you take a deep breath, smiling wide enough that you don't even have to see Oliver, "it kind of goes back well beyond just you."

The next morning, stopping into the study before you head down to breakfast, you intend to collect the book you'd finally found those red flowers in. Top of your pile, you'd left it open on the very page. But you find that someone has turned the page. Scabious, in full bloom, mocking you, surely.

The botany book lay like a bitter seductress on your desk, left open, pages spread and staring up at you; purple fucking pincushions.

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 63 (The Old Man at the Museum)

The Brindleton Light circled from Deadgrass Isle across the bay as a drizzling rain added moisture to the air.

Conrad hadn't forgotten about the ghostly growl he'd heard on his last visit with Heather, and now, more than ever, he needed a distraction.

He hopped on the ferry and made it to the isle just in time for the museum to close, but he hadn't come to the isle for the artefacts.

An old man walked down the museum steps and offered a friendly wave. Conrad froze. He looked strikingly like his own father, though the closer he walked, the resemblance faded.

His eyes were darker, hair straighter, nose too thin, and maybe he was shorter, too. But for a split second, he swore the man could have been Stephen Gordon himself.

"Detective Gordon! You just missed last entry." He leaned down to give friendly Gord a welcome greeting, too.

"Y-you know me?"

"I know everyone! Lived in Brindleton all my life, and when a new copper moves from the big city to our sleepy town, word travels faster than a greyhound."

Conrad smiled at the kindly old man. In the distance, he thought he saw a light flicker through one of the lighthouse's ground floor windows. "I was hoping to check out the Brindleton Light tonight, anyway."

"You like investigating ghost stories in your spare time?"

"Can ghosts turn the lights on?"

The old man's gaze followed Conrad's toward the base of the tower, but all the windows were dark. "No one's lived in there for close to 150 years, but ghosts are crafty souls!"

He chuckled warmly, and Conrad felt at ease in his presence. "Tonight I just needed something to keep my mind off...something else."

The old man nodded, understanding enough from Conrad's stance not to press for more. "Well, if it's a ghost you want, the cemetery is the place, but some say the ghost of the old lightkeeper's dog still stands guard over the tower, long after his master's death. The bulb runs on electricity now, but they say his old dog's ghost still watches the bay for passing ships and barks to warn them of the rocks."

"Sounds like a very good dog," Conrad mused, ruffling Gord's fur. His dog barked happily.

"I could show you around if you like. I've got to lock the stairwell door, anyway."

Conrad smiled. The old lightkeeper and his dog knew the importance of spending time with those they loved. "You know, I'll definitely be back to take you up on the offer another time, but I shouldn't be here. Not tonight."

The old man tipped his cap with a genial wave. Conrad and Gord circled the lighthouse once, but he couldn't find any sign of someone who might've turned the lights on.

He pet Gord on the head. "All these local ghost stories, talk of Grim Reapers and ambrosia... They must have me seeing things at the lighthouse."

Gord offered a friendly bark before they returned to the pier and boarded the ferry to the mainland. Rain misted against his face as the boat carried them toward the faint lights dotting the shoreline. He walked back up the hill from the wharf to Sable Square, taking his time and collecting himself.

Heather was quiet when he walked through the door.

"You waited up for me. I'm sorry."

"I got called in to work for an emergency tum-readjustment, but I would've been up anyway. What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry I just took off. I wasn't trying to scare you, but I had to get my thoughts together. Losing my mother so young was really devastating. I always thought I wouldn't have kids because I didn't want to leave open the possibility they could lose me before they're ready, like I lost her. I love Ash, but it's not the same. He still has you and Malcolm."

Heather sympathized and tried to comfort him. "If you're not ready to be a father, I understand. But when you walked out tonight, I knew more than ever I want a family with you, Conrad. Not just Ash and me, plus you. I love you so much, but if you're never going to be ready..."

"Remember what you said the night I first brought up moving in together? I'm not ready tonight, but I've got months, right? I feel unprepared and totally unready for anyone to call me 'Dad', but you are my family, Heather. And Ash. And this little one, too."

"Conrad, are you sure? This is a bigger commitment than moving in together."

He tried to comfort her fears with a smile. "When Gord and I were out tonight, I spent a lot of time thinking about what my Dad would say if he was here. After we lost my mom, my dad and I leaned on each other for a lot, but I spent years trying to navigate my grief without burdening him further, and I was angry."

"Conrad, I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. He worked a lot and we didn't get to talk much. He didn't like to talk about her, and all I wanted to do was keep remembering her out loud to keep her with us. After he died, I just bottled everything, and when Gord came along I thought that would be it. Me, my dog, and my career."

"But then you met me..."

He took her by the hand and stood from the sofa. "Meeting you changed everything. On my way home, I realized my father showed me until the day he died what family meant to him through the life he gave me. It's not that I don't want this. I love you, I'm just scared. But I'd jump through flame portals to keep you and Ash safe, and I'd do it to protect our baby, too."

He crouched down speak to her small bump. "I promise I'll be ready to be the father to you that my dad was to me."

Heather looked at Conrad with a loving gaze. "We'll always be a team, and you can talk to me about anything, including your parents. You never say much about them, and I never want to pry."

He stood. "I think I know the first thing I need to un-bottle. I only had a few boxes worth of stuff to move when I got here, but I left my parents in a box under the bed in the guest room. You have so many photos of your family and friends all over the house and I told myself there was no need to clutter the walls with more... But I think I need to take my parents out of the box."

With this turn of events, the Nesbitt-Gordon household began planning for a new family member, and Conrad took an important step facing his past. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

[pininghermit]

Mockery of Errors

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Alucard's got a personal idiot to save him decade's worth of therapy.

AN: some nsfw vocab so minors dni

"Omg oh no I am so sorry."

Three pairs of eyes stare at you.

"I can get myself out," you mumbled, shuffling awkwardly. Turning to leave through the broken window you entered by, you paused. "Oh crap," you muttered, glancing at the shattered glass and then back at the golden-haired vampire, who you assumed was the owner.

"I can pay for the damages," you offered, patting your pockets frantically. You desperately hoped you hadn't been an idiot and left your purse at home. You studiously avoided looking at the vampire's bare, luminous legs.

Was that… rope? Your eyes widened at the crimson bundle peeking out from under the bed. Great. You'd just stumbled into some bizarre threesome. Just your luck.

The commotion seems to snap the supposed lord out of his shock. Though you desperately tried to avoid their gaze, you heard the rustle of clothes and felt the air shift as the vampire lord moved in front of you. And much to your dismay a sword.

Your spine felt like jelly, but you forced a wobbly smile as you looked up at the ridiculously good-looking vampire lord. It all clicked into place. Dammit! He deserved a good threesome. Insanely handsome vampire lords with deary castles deserve a good bang.

"Now, now, my lord," you began, your voice betraying a slight hitch. "There's no need for that. I assure you, I'm no robber." You mentally shoved aside the very inappropriate picture that had just popped into your head, desperate to stay alive.

"This is all just a…jest, you see? A silly little bet with friends. Terrible timing, I admit, and terribly sorry for the interruption. I can, of course, make myself scarce." You finished with a weak attempt at a conspiratorial wink, hoping it landed somewhere between charming and utterly insane.

You flashed a friendly smile at the, ahem, occupants of the bed, who (to their credit) did a fantastic job of conveying annoyance through sheer silence. You waved awkwardly, but they weren't having it.

"Ahem," the vampire lord cleared his throat to catch your fleeting attention. "Do you know where you stand?" He asked, his voice surprisingly weak. He sounded young...a young adult vampire? They came in all ages and formats you mused internally.

Focusing on his question, you tried to hide the relief of finding a young master instead of a slithering nasty vampire."Ah, my lord," you stammered, "we, uh, my friends and I…had no idea a vampire resided here...the cutesy garden in the back yard had us guessing this castle was looked after a kind granny."

That was not the right thing to say. Apparently, even unageing vampires were vain enough to detest being called a granny...to your credit, his white nightgown was not doing him any favors.

Alucard felt a furious blush creep up his neck. Thankfully, you seemed too terrified to meet his gaze.

The shattered window was a godsend. A distracting agent that prevented acknowledging the scene you walked in on.

He towered over you as you sat perched precariously on the windowsill, inspecting the broken glass with an unsettling focus. "Sturdy stuff," you muttered in approval, completely oblivious to the elephant in the room - or rather, the castle.

Not the damn ropes! Adrian groaned silently. He wasn't easily flustered, but this… this was pushing his limits.

Steeling yourself with the air of someone who'd made a grand decision, you rose to your feet. "My lord," you declared, "I can totally replace this glass tomorrow! No worries. Besides, who carries a purse on a ridiculous late-night dare, anyway?"

Adrian let out a sigh so deep it could rival a tectonic plate shift. Clutching his face in his hands, he squeezed his eyes shut. This, he thought hysterically, was worse than a thousand post-nut clarity moments combined. There was no way he could ever face Sumi or Taka again.

He nods. At this point, he would be better off flying away as a bat and never show up to his accursed castle ever again.

Peering out the window, you mumbled, oblivious to the tension, "Yikes, that's a drop. So, about those ropes…" A collective cringe echoed through the room, the occupants unified in their secondhand embarrassment.

"Just use the damn door!" Adrian roared, his voice cracking spectacularly mid-scream.

And thus, with a shattered window, a flustered vampire lord, and a shockingly oblivious mortal, the future of Adrian Tepes, son of Dracula, took a most unexpected turn.

[eoieopda]

Can I request Jimin and the backwards relationship trope? Idk if that makes as much sense in words as it does in my head. Fuck buddies —> friends —> lovers kind of thing? Happy Drabblepalooza, Milestone, and five month Tumblrversary, lovely! You’re a gem 💎

tysm bb! i love this prompt 🥹

the one with the clownfish and the anemone

pairing: park jimin x gn!reader type: drabble (suggestive fluff) | wc: 863 rating: 18+ (minors dni) au: fuck buddies to friends to lovers cw: no explicit detail re: smut but it’s mentioned that they do, in fact, fuck; implied cumshot, lol; alcohol mention. summary: jimin entered your life by chance, but he stayed by choice. ⚠️ 18+ only ⚠️ minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, on sight. my content is not for you. i do not want to interact with you. please respect my boundaries.

It started, as most things do, with soju. Too much soju, to be specific. 

As if there’s any other kind.

You were bold, but Park Jimin was bolder. He saw you at the bar, gave neither a shit nor a fuck that you were out with your friends, and sidled right up to you as if he belonged there. You balked at his audacity, but it worked. He slipped seamlessly into your life that night. 

And then, when you and your friends parted ways, he slipped his hand into yours. Slipped into your bed, into you, then back out the door like some thief in the night. So it goes, you thought. You went through the motions of your nighttime skincare routine, and went soundly to sleep in a post-soju, post-sex haze.

A few weeks passed by before you saw him again, entirely by chance. As it turned out, the gym you frequented — well, maybe not that frequently — sat centrally between your apartment and his. Neighbors, he mused. No neighbor you’d ever had fucked you like he did, pressing your back to a perforated metal door in a locker room, smelling like salted sweat and orange, sugar-free Gatorade.

“You’re an idiot,” you told him, dead serious. “Blue is the best flavor, hands down.”

He laughed so hard his eyes disappeared. “You’re an idiot. Blue is not a flavor.”

When you went your separate ways that night, he left with your phone number. He claimed it was in case of emergencies, shot you a wink, and disappeared again. Just like the last time, you went back to normal, albeit with the grooves of a locker door imprinted into your back.

It took him three days to text you, and it wasn’t an emergency. Not to you, anyway. To him, it might’ve been; he was trapped, bored, at some friend’s bachelor party and needed an out. Needed you, he said, can I come over? So, he did — all over your tits while you were still gasping for air underneath him.

Life continued like that for months: inconsequentially. You came, he left, and the two of you left it like that. It was nice, having someone to pinch hit whenever a date didn’t pan out, or work was especially stressful. Or it was a Tuesday, or it was raining, or just because.

“It’s symbiotic,” you explained, and he nodded.

With a nonchalant wave of his hand, he offered, “Like a clownfish and an anemone.”

It shouldn’t have surprised you, but it did every time. The person fucking your brains out on a semi-regular basis had brains of his own; and he was funny. He was thoughtful, too, which was something else you failed to account for.

The first time he showed up unannounced on your doorstep, he had a takeaway container in his hand. You were unwashed and entirely unprepared for visitors; and Jimin didn’t seem to notice — if he did, he kept it secret — that you were as much of a mess as your apartment. He simply stepped inside, handed you hotteok from the street cart you wouldn’t shut up about, and then he stayed.

You kept to your respective seats — him on the couch, you sitting cross-legged on the floor by his shins — and neither of you sought to change that fact. It was the latest you’d stayed up since college, and it was the hardest you’d ever laughed. The pair of you got through three movies, back to back, before he left to sleep in his own bed. The squeeze he gave your hand on his way out the door felt more intimate than anything else you’d ever done together.

So slowly that you couldn’t track the motion, Jimin slid into your daylight hours as if he belonged there. You took turns dropping coffee off to the other at your respective offices. You grabbed salads after your joint excursions to the gym as a way of apologizing to your bodies for what you'd just done to them. You called him to complain about your parents; he texted you every morning with your daily horoscope.

And throughout the months you spent like this, soaking into your routine, you didn’t realize that fucking was no longer part of it. It hadn’t been, not since you sat and ate hotteok on your living room floor. Fucking was casual, and this meant far more than that.

Whenever you found yourself in his lap now, it was because you loved to take up more than your fair share of the couch, and his thighs made the perfect pillow. He was comfortable. You were comfortable with him. So much so that your position, combined with the way he played idly with your hair, put you most of the way to sleep.

He must’ve thought you were all the way gone because he whispered, “I love you,” like he was sharing a secret.

It was mumbled through barely-opened lips when you replied, “I know,” just before taking his hand from your hair and brushing a kiss across his knuckles.

Though you didn’t say it out loud, you know he heard it, that he felt it, because — for the first time — he stayed the night.

[poison-damage]

POISON DAMAGE - A POKEMON OC STORY [CH.1]

[Prologue]

TWs for the chapter: kidnapping, child endangerment

art credit: @eirian

A fateful meeting of outcasts.

It was Priscilla’s 7th birthday today.

She walked through the forest, her boots covered in mud as she dragged a long stick behind her, drawing a small path as she wandered. Birthdays were never something monumental to her–even at the young age of seven, she never saw the big deal. Most likely because they never really had money to celebrate, nor did she have friends to celebrate with.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw a caterpie on its back, struggling to get back on its belly. Priscilla walked over to a bush with some nice large leaves, plucked one, and came back to the squirming pokemon. She gently flipped him back over before offering the leaf to the bug type pokemon, squatting next to him.

“Yer probably hungry, aren’t cha? Who knows how long ya’ve been on your back…eat up lil’ guy.” She said softly, but her face remained stoic. The caterpie wiggled excitedly before beginning to munch on the leaf, and Priscilla stood back up. “Try to be more careful, lil guy. I won’t always be around to help ya.”

She dusted off the shorts to her overalls, looking around at the trees. “Did ya make someone mad at ya? Maybe that’s why you were on yer back…” she mused, rubbing her chin in thought.

She then heard some rustling in a bush nearby, and Priscilla looked to it curiously. She tilted her head as she approached it carefully, peeking behind it and blinking a bit. Her expression lit up as she laid eyes on a larger-than-normal female nidoran, growling lowly at her. Living on a nidoran farm, Priscilla saw a lot of different kinds of nidoran and their evolutions, but she can’t remember ever seeing one this large! Priscilla didn’t make any sudden movements, though, especially when she noticed the injuries on the pokemon.

“Yer hurt pretty bad. Did a human do this to ya?” she said, her expression turning into a sympathetic frown. The nidoran bared its teeth more, growling louder. Priscilla took a small step back, holding her hands up. “I’ll get ya some help. Don’t move, okay?” though it was safe to assume in that state, the nidoran couldn’t get very far anyways.

Before she left, though, she set up a quick little nest inside a tree trunk and laid some berries in the nest. “You can rest ‘ere if ya want. No one will bother ya. I’ll be back.” Priscilla then ran back out of the forest to grab what she could to help out the injured pokemon.

—

She came out about an hour later, after telling her parents she’d be out late helping out a pokemon. She came holding a first aid kit and a couple potions along with a lamp(it had gotten dark), looking around for the nidoran. What she found, though, was the pokemon fast asleep in the tree trunk. Priscilla put down the first aid kit and potions, which while she tried to do so quietly, still made the nidoran stir. Priscilla offered a little smile, sitting on the other side of the tree trunk.

She looked up at the sky–there were always so many stars. She loved to look at them. “Ya know, humans have hurt me too,” she said softly, bringing her knees to her chest. “They can be really mean. They say ‘n do hurtful things…but I promise ya I’m not like that.”

She sat there in silence, starting to get a bit sleepy staring at the sky for so long. She eventually drifted off, now laying on her side as she continued her slumber. She was woken from a dreamless sleep, though, when she felt a soft body against hers.

It was the middle of the night as she opened her eyes, looking now at the nidoran who had curled up against her. She smiled sleepily, before she fell back asleep with the smile still on her face. It was nice to have a friend.

—

When they both had woken up, Priscilla had tended to the nidoran’s wounds, and the pokemon seemed very grateful as it nuzzled her leg. She giggled a bit, patting the pokemon’s head gently. 

“I live on a farm that has a buncha nidoran, ya know. I think ya might like it.” The nidoran chirped in response. Priscilla sighed, looking troubled. “Hopefully Ma ‘n Pa aren’t too worried ‘bout me…I guess this aint the first time I’ve fallen asleep in the forest, though.” She grabbed her stick she had left behind, pointing it in front of her with a determined expression.

“Yer name shall be Princess, ‘n one day, when you turn into a big nidoqueen, ya will earn the name Queen!” Priscilla proclaimed loudly, to no one but Princess. Princess chirped happily in agreement, and aggressively nuzzled Priscilla while thumping her leg happily.

They walked out of the forest, Priscilla dragging the stick behind her as she went. 

—

Priscilla got an earful from her parents for staying out all night, but that went in one ear and out the other. It would definitely happen again in the future. Priscilla wasn’t even sure why it was such a big deal–yeah it was her birthday, but she didn’t have friends to celebrate it nor could her parents afford any sort of celebration anyways. The ideal way for her to celebrate was to have fun in the forest and make a new friend.

Priscilla’s parents definitely had ogled over Princess, though–they did run a nidoran farm, after all. But Princess was not as excited to meet them as they were to meet her. She seemed to somewhat tolerate them, though, after observing that they were alright with Priscilla. 

The duo now found themselves back in the forest, Priscilla seated on a stump and Princess chasing after some poor bug pokemon as if she wanted to play. Priscilla was drawing circles in the dirt with her stick, sighing a bit.

The nidoran looked curiously at her, nudging her hand a bit to get her attention. Priscilla snapped out of her gloomy daze, petting Princess before smushing the nidoran’s cheeks a bit with a smile.

“I don’ mean to be so down….” Priscilla said, her voice a little sad. “But I gotta go back to school tomorraw…’s just not fair. All my classmates are bullies. Wish I could just hang out with you instead.” Priscilla kicked the dirt a bit. Then her face lit up, an idea clearly striking her. She looked excitedly at Princess, now smiling.

“I know what we can do! We can skip school t’gether. Maybe we can run away ‘n live here instead.” Priscilla looked thoughtful for a moment. “I’d miss Ma and Pa...but we can always go visit ‘em! I’m sure when we visit it’ll be special, like when Mamaw comes and visits…” she sighed contently, and Princess just rested her head in Priscilla’s lap. She pet the large nidoran, scritching underneath her chin.

“Yeah. I think that’s a real good plan. We can live off th’ land! I’m real good at looking for berries.” Priscilla stood up, patting her face as if to pump herself up. Princess looked up at her curiously before chirping happily. Priscilla pointed her stick in front of her at nothing in particular, huffing up her chest. “Let’s go home ‘n pack all ‘a our stuff, okay?”

—

It was late when Priscilla had packed up a bag with some snacks, a blanket, and other various trinkets. She took her notepad and pen, scribbling a note on the paper:

“Deer Ma and Pa,

Gonna live in tha forust. I wil still viset. 

Lov,

Priscilla”

When she had decided that would do the job, she quietly put the paper on the kitchen counter, looking around to make sure her parents weren’t awake. She then went over to Princess who was asleep on the couch and nudged her. 

“‘S time ta go, Princess. Our new life is going ta be so much fun!” she said excitedly, but in a hushed tone.

Princess yawned a little, shaking off the sleepiness before hopping off the couch and following Priscilla outside, and into the forest.

—

Priscilla had made a nest of leaves and grass, laying her blanket on it, before making a smaller nest for Princess next. The sun was starting to rise, but Priscilla was exhausted from being up most of last night setting up her new ‘home’. She yawned big, laying down in the pile she made for herself and pulling her blanket over her. Princess made herself comfortable in her own nest, closing her eyes.

“We worked real hard t’night, I think we deserve a lil’ nap, don’t ya think?” Priscilla said with a big yawn, and Princess made a tired little noise before adjusting a bit in her spot. Priscilla couldn’t help but notice her pile of leaves and grass weren’t as comfortable as a bed…no matter, though. She’d get used to it. It wasn’t that bad.

Nonetheless, she found herself tossing and turning, before finally falling into a deep slumber. Yeah. She could get used to this.

The duo weren’t asleep for very long, though, when they were woken up abruptly by Priscilla getting caught in a net. Her eyes shot open as she struggled to move. A large man stood in front of her, an umbreon standing next to him. Princess was also caught in a net, and was being loaded onto a truck, and Priscilla started to panic. This wasn’t supposed to be happening! Her and Princess were going to have a nice life together in the forest! 

“H-hey, let her go!! Ya dumb crap head!!” Priscilla screamed at him, struggling in the net, which caused the man to scowl and kick her in the gut. Priscilla felt sharp pain at that, and her vision went black as the man picked her up as well and threw her in the truck along with Princess.

“Stupid fucking brat,” he grumbled, turning on the car.

Princess chirped worriedly at Priscilla who had passed out, and she remained unresponsive as the man drove off with the both of them. Princess began to chew through the net, though it was taking her a while–she was frantic to get them both out of this situation, though.

Right when she had chewed a big enough hole to escape, they arrived at their destination. Princess didn’t have enough time to chew through Priscilla’s net, before the man noticed that the nidoran had broken free from the trap. His umbreon growled lowly at Princess, and she growled equally back, standing in front of Priscilla as if to protect her.

“Umbreon, use bite, and don’t hold back,” the man huffed, and the umbreon obeyed, digging it’s fangs into Princess’s neck, and she yelped in pain. The man then made his way towards the duo, frowning deeply.

“You’ve been a pain in my ass. No longer. And your little brat trainer? She’s seen too much to keep her alive. It’s over. Umbreon, dark pulse.”

The umbreon shot a dark ray from the ring on its forehead, causing Princess to stumble and wince, but she managed to get back on her feet before there was a fierce glint in her eyes. She started to glow, growing larger as she was shrouded in light. When the light faded, she emerged from it a large nidorina, now looking even more enraged than before.

She let out a loud growl before the ground started to rumble and break. She was using earthquake, and the man and the umbreon fell down to the ground and fear filled the man’s eyes. 

“I knew you were trouble,” he growled, but then a rock raised up and hit the back of his head, knocking him unconscious. The umbreon quickly fled the scene, and Princess went over to where Priscilla was and chewed through the rest of the net.

Priscilla finally opened her eyes, but there was a strong pain in her gut and she had trouble moving. Her eyes finally focused, looking up at Princess and slowly registering what was before her. Her eyes widened and she smiled big, sitting up quickly before wincing in pain and laying back down.

“Princess, you evolved! That’s…ow ow ow…that’s so wonderful!” she said, not able to contain her excitement which just made the pain flare up more. But she didn’t care. “Thank ya fer savin’ me…” she said softly, smiling a bit sadly.

Princess nuzzled her face, causing Priscilla to laugh and then groan in pain again. “Owww…What do we do now?” she said, her smiling growing into a frown. “Hol’ on. Maybe you can fetch Ma and Pa for me…otherwise I dunno if I can move, ya see…” Princess nodded in understanding, and ran off to go find Priscilla’s parents.

Priscilla closed her eyes, trying not to move too much since any movement just caused her anguish in the moment. Her eyes watered a little bit, and she couldn’t help but sniffle, reaching up slowly to wipe her eyes. She just hoped the man wouldn’t wake up anytime soon…Priscilla glanced over at his body, her eyes growing wide as she realized his body was still, no sign of breathing apparent. Oh, no. Would she and Princess go to jail? 

After some time had passed, Priscilla’s parents came running after Princess, tears in their eyes as well as they were thanking Arceus that she was alive and with them. Her father picked her up gently, and she began to cry again, gripping his shirt and sobbing into it.

Princess looked worryingly up at Priscilla, but followed the three of them back to the farm.

So, it turns out, they did not end up living the rest of their life in the forest.

[pocketramblr]

5 headcanons for a krakenverse AU where Tamaki's mother married First instead of All for One. (Playing it safe with the weaker but less evil brother.) Tamaki is their son.

Ehehehe

1- Amaji has an interesting definition of playing it safe, because AfO killed his brother's lover Second (and possibly his next and last lover Third idk but either way 100% murdered lover rate) but when she manages to catch First alone to explain it, he agrees- it'd be political, but it would hopefully offer protection to Ozoko and freedom to First, as long as he spent some time both in the city and back with his brother.

2- AfO protests, naturally, even citing that he should be married before his little brother, but First points out he had centuries to do that before he was even born and didn't, so he lost his chance.(Shame about Sorahiko, I suppose) Knowing his brother will try to kill Amaji anyway, he also tells him that they plan to magically seal their lives together- if Amaji dies, so does he, and vice versa. The catch here tho, is to do this, they'd need someone somehow related to both of them by blood. (This is related to the spell and method in krakenverse canon that keeps AfO from even lifting a hand to his relatives, but less powerful) As they do not share any relatives, Amaji and First would need to make one... Fortunately for Amaji (on a time crunch because AfO would kill her long before nine months were up) and First (gay), witchcraft exists!

3- which, I guess, makes their marriage technically also a shotgun wedding? Ok sure why not. AfO grits his teeth and says they must really love each other to do that, but he can't not attend the wedding, and when he sees the little tiny Tamaki he decides he really needs to find a way to brainwash Amaji so he can have his brother back... And his little nephew, who's adorable (his hair is lighter here, closer to Nejire's shade) and a potential heir to the throne of Ozoko. Which means he has to play nice, to ensure they are within his home and not the city as much as possible

4- he also just... Acts like Tamaki is named after him. He tries to get his pods to treat him special so he prefers it to the city aquatics, but Tamaki is as shy about the obvious and forced coddling as he is getting sideways looks, so he hates both and he especially hates how his uncle keeps forgetting his name, even if he's the only one who is honest about considering Tamaki weak and ill suited for the city. Instead of drawing this towards the Kraken like AfO hopes, it draws him further into his own room in Ozoko, reluctant to ever leave and worrying First, who can't imagine trapping yourself with so much potential freedom right there.

5- AfO, frustrated that what he considers "playing nice" isn't working, wonders if getting married himself would solve the problem, get First to visit more, perhaps a child would draw Tamaki out. He thinks about suitable options, but there's not really anyone. Inko was pretty, but she got married to someone on land, poor tastes just like her mother. The rest of the pod isn't really attractive either, and if he picks one of his more violent and loyal followers, his brother will never want to visit.

As he muses on the issue, Amaji and First lead their son up to the surface to meet Queen Inko and her boys, slightly desperate to get the kid some positive socialization since neither the Kraken's territory nor the city seem viable options.

[entriprises]

random miscellaneous facts about my muses, based on daily muse questions on the dash over the last week (& more) :

-- what's one quirk/habit/trait that someone else could notice about your muse without it being mentioned? by @lvebug

bradley doesn’t close cabinets all the way sometimes. they’ll be left ajar. he also picks at his face and neck sometimes when he’s uncomfortable

tadashi chews on things constantly -- gum, nuts, straws, pens, toothpicks, lollipop sticks

-- does your muse have their ringer on on their phone? do they use custom ringtones? do they use do not disturb?

cathy and bobby have one of the ringtones offered in phones but not the default one and they never actually have their ringers off

mark once put his phone in do not disturb and forgot to turn it off and was confused why he wasn’t getting notifications for a week

bradley doesn’t have his ringer on because he just doesn’t ever want it to go off during something (it did once and he got chewed out)

buttercup barely knows where her phone is, but it usually is on do not disturb with the only exceptions are family contacts

-- do they have a best friend? tell me about who your muse would consider their best friend !!! by @lvebug

bradley considers nat to be his best friend

for buttercup it’s her sisters

mark’s is rick martinez from his mission

bob’s is his twin herschel and a friend who he met at an event for his mom during his high school years but she doesn’t have a name at the moment

baymax considers everyone his best friend

-- everyone should tell me  if their muse has any chronic pain by @strangewonderful

bradley tries very hard to pretend he doesn’t have any neck and upper back pain but it’s right between his shoulder blades some days

romeo will tell you that it’s in his biceps and shoulders from playing too hard some days

-- does your muse workout? stretch? yoga? runs? do they enjoy working out? and also do they prefer to work out alone or with others?

romeo doesn't work out unless someone drags him to it. when andie started to work out more that's when he got into it too. that being said he has a long history of hauling heavy equipment so he gets in a workout from that stuff naturally. he hates running, and he hates working out alone

-- how long does your muse spend in bed before they get up for the day? what gets them out of bed?

emmett usually spends about twenty minutes in bed. he does a lot of phone scrolling, mostly looking at his own schedule, trying to find music to put on, and slowly waking up. what gets him out of bed is that his bed is in the living room so when liam's up, he's up

-- does your muse keep a calendar? what do they write on it, how detailed is it, is it digital or on paper?

jen keeps a calendar in her phone. she has waaaay too much paperwork to want to keep a paper calendar and more likely than not it'll get los in the mix of everything. she does have a couple paper ones hanging anyways in the office just cause

-- tell me about your muse's favorite holiday! how do they celebrate? do they decorate their living space? do they celebrate with family or friends or in private?

christmas is a big one for cathy, and also thanksgiving. they're family heavy holidays and though it's always been just her and kate there's something sweet to the formalness and decor that comes with both holidays. she absolutely does her best to decorate for christmas, and never inappropriately early. she has it right on time with the end of november (sometimes thanksgiving is spent decorating). they've got enough christmas lights to wrap around the rockefeller tree probably twice. also tree decorating is a must

cathy also honors her wedding anniversary and the date when she and ellis met by doing something that was special to them both whether it's eating out at a restaurant or organizing something

-- tell me what your muse’s dream job was when they were little! what is their job now?

buck has had a million and one jobs and that's not something that was different when he little either. as a kid he wanted to be it all (not unlike a barbie). the list included athlete, lifeguard, crossing guard, spy, cowboy, and dexter of dexter's lab

-- tell me about your muse’s music listening habits! what volume do they listen at? headphones or speaker? is it mostly while they work or are on their way somewhere? do they listen to music at all? do they listen to playlists or one song on repeat?

bobby doesn't ever really use headphones... he doesn't own them. he is almost always listening to whatever a space is playing. music at the firehouse? okay cool, that's his music of the day! speaker is the way to go, car radio for sure. he does love listening to music, and he has like six playlists all some variation of "for car" or "recommended"

-- where is your muse most productive and when? morning or night, home or the office? etc etc

neal is productive all hours of the day, and he could work anywhere. he's truly the most adaptive of the muses and it comes from the demands of the conman life. that being said, he hates people staring at him while he works and does prefer privacy and space

-- tell me about what your muse likes the least about their job. what can’t they stand? what do they frequently complain about?

holly doesn't have a full time job unless you count her unofficial investigations. if you do, she hates how young she is. it's her biggest roadblock because people don't take her seriously. it also does have its perks though and she can get away with a lot of stuff

-- tell me about your muses socks. who wears fun socks? who wears mismatched socks? do they wear socks? low cut? ankle?

the most fun socks belong to holly and buttercup. they both have very stylish ones with frills, patterns, and more! they both prefer the ankle or mid calf socks (depending on the outfit of course)

IF YOU'RE READING THIS HI!!! ILY!! MWAH!!

[cloudcutter]

smile for the camera - p.sunghoon

chapter 11 - new project

“your outfits!” you cried at the same time sunoo pointed to jungwon and yelled, “your hair!” a silence settled for a brief moment before the three of you dissolved into laughter, sunghoon and jay smiling fondly.

“your outfits look great, guys. maybe i’ll have to incorporate you into some group shots together,” you mused with a wide smile.

“anyway, wonie, what’s with your hair?” sunoo asked, leaving you to begin setting up. as jungwon explained how he was bored of his red hair with jay listening quietly beside them, sunghoon found his way towards you.

“hey pretty. need help?” he asked, kneeling down beside you. you flashed him a quick smile and nodded.

“yeah. set that light up over there for me, will you?” you asked. he nodded and did as he was told as you fiddled with your camera. he watched with a small smile as you took test shots, adjusting the lighting as you went (at least he thought. he knew nothing about photography.)

“alright!” you said, clapping your hands together, drawing everyone’s attention to you. “sunoo first. i’m gonna probably add in everyone else, just because y’all have cool outfits that kind of match in my head for this shoot. so feel free to… i dunno, frolick around?” jay laughed at this, which caused your grin to widen.

“i’m gonna go get waters for everyone since someone forgot,” jungwon announced. “jay is coming with me. and sunghoon—“

“sunghoon is staying right here,” the dark haired boy quipped, causing your younger friend to roll his eyes.

“fine. jay and i will go get drinks and snacks. be right back!” jungwon and jay set off, jungwon happily chatting as jay listened contentedly by his side. sunghoon settled in the grass as you directed sunoo to the spot you wanted the pictures taken. he watched on as you smiled encouragingly as sunoo put on a bright smile for the camera, posing every few seconds. he noticed your attention to detail and the way you’d reach out to smooth a wrinkle in his shirt or curl a piece of hair back towards his face.

“hey, lover boy. you look ridiculous.”

sunghoon was snapped out of his gaze by jay, standing next to a snickering jungwon. “i was just watching,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. jungwon flashed him a knowing smile.

“she’s good, isn’t she?” he asked. it was clear jungwon was proud to be her friend. sunghoon nodded, fixing his gaze back on the girl in question.

jungwon seemed to take this as an invitation to continue bragging about his friend, which sunghoon did not mind.

“she’s been taking pictures for as long as i can remember. i’m sure her and soobin have been doing it for even longer than any of us probably realize. she’s just really passionate about it,” jungwon explained. he snickered against casting a sly gaze towards the older boy. “i feel bad for whoever she ends up with because i have no clue if she’ll ever like anything more than photography.”

“you cant judge her for that when you’re the same with dance,” jay scolded, nudging jungwon and causing him to laugh and agree.

“wonie! quit chatting and get over here! i need my two cuties in one picture!” your voice interrupted the boys and jungwon grinned brightly. he abandoned his older classmates almost immediately, bounding over to you and sunoo, who was talking excitedly.

“were you guys talking shit?” you asked, suspicious of jungwon’s wide grin.

“no, no! just sunghoon’s stupid pining, that’s it!” jungwon shook his head as he spoke, making you giggle. sunoo let out a groan.

“god, he’s so embarrassing. if he ever makes you uncomfortable, please let me or any of his friends know and we will set him straight,” he said, shooting a glare to his clueless friend who rolled his eyes in response. you offered him a small smile, shaking your head.

“oh, i can handle him. don’t worry. i get free drinks out of this deal so it’s okay,” you assured him. sunoo raised an eyebrow.

“i know he has an ego and i won’t disagree he needs to be taken down several notches,” he started. he paused and you both cast a quick glance over at jay and sunghoon, the latter who was laying in the grass, laughing at something jay had said. “but something tells me he’s being for real when he says he likes you. and he is my friend. so i don’t wanna see him too hurt. so don’t lead him on too strongly, yeah?”

sunoo’s words caught you off guard. you had assumed he was just joking around. but if sunoo said something, did that mean maybe he wasn’t?

before you could press farther, jay’s voice interrupted. “hey, are we almost done? i’m hungry. my dad gave me money to treat everyone to dinner.”

you resumed your shoot, directing sunoo and jungwon around before finally inviting sunghoon and jay over.

“sunghoon, c’mere,” you murmurered, waving him over. his dimple pressed into his cheek as he smiled, trotting over to you. he opened his mouth to say something snarky when you reached out to smooth the collar of his jacket, busying yourself with fixing the small flaws in his appearance.

his breath hitched in his throat. you were so close to him right now. he wanted to tease you but he chose instead to relish in the small, focused smile on your face as you fixed his hair.

“all good! sorry, just wanted to make sure everything was perfect. back to your position,” you ordered teasingly and he gave you a mock salute, still unable to find his voice.

“are you blushing?” sunoo hissed when sunghoon rejoined the group. the taller boy shook his head defiantly.

“nope. definitely not. let’s hurry this up please, i’m starving.”

previous | masterlist | next

smile for the camera: in which you don’t believe sunghoon could have feelings for you so you challenge him to prove it before you both graduate.

a/n: i always am so scared to post written chapters bc what if my writing sucks LMAO but here is a chapter that despite my nervousness to post, i am pretty proud of! trying to keep the rivals/enemies thing going as long as i originally wanted but if u couldn’t tell both y/n AND the author (me) are starting to crack and can’t help but like hoon … enjoy <3

ALSO SO OFF TOPIC FROM ENHA BUT HOW ARE WE FEELING ABOUT TXT COMEBACK BC SOOBIN HAS ME GOING INSANE I ADORE HIM

tag list: @yenqa @sungookie @lomzy5 5 @lilactangerine @aki1e @lunakua @blossomnct @dimplewonie @diestheticu @viagumi i @nobodyshallenter @judeduartewannbe @beebop-uwu @marcelinesakura @bwljules @flower0930 @adajoemaya @simp4sim @tobiosbbyghorl @calumsfringe @moonlighthoon

[luizazemi]

I closed my eyes and I saw everything 3/???

A huge thanks for following the idle adventures of our favorite Na'vi teenagers in my Avatar : The Way of Water fic! Also know that the amount of ship I see in the tags make me really happy. Here is more.

Including mangrove roots, a bead, and a bonding moment.

[Title after this song]

For a moment, the young Omaticaya was almost back in the high camp. Neteyam didn’t know how long he had lay there, lost in his flow of memories, but the Metkayina blue sky had turned into the wood-bark dusk. The village was now buzzing, getting ready for the evening – sharing the goods gathered in the reef or the jungle, reuniting with the family members spread through the island and the inlet during the day, telling each other what the day had been made of. 

All the activities seemed so trivial to Neteyam. Didn’t they have anything more important to do? The Omaticaya had explored forests, discovered mountains, fought and overcome the Sky People. Why, of all the clans Pandora hosted, did his father choose such an uneventful place? Were the Sullys so weak that they should conceal themselves in the reaches of the world?

Neteyam clicked his tongue. The feeling was so familiar, and yet so frustrating. But he would comply. As he always did.

With a stretch, he went out of the marui. The salt in the air and on his skin tickled his senses. The distant crash of the waves along the atolls had cradled him to sleep. In a way, he was thankful for that. This everlasting lullaby was way more comforting than the rustling of the rainforest.

“I have been looking for you.”

He barely had the time to properly greet Aonung. The Mektayina threw something at him. Startled, Neteyam thanked his parents for sharpening his senses. He grasped the token effortlessly, and, between his thumb and his index, observed it in the setting sun.

“A bead?” he said, blankly.

“Well, a bet’s a bet,” Aonung argued. “Though you kind of let me win this round. We’re even now.”

Somehow, being even with Aonung had a nice ring to it. Neteyam gazed at the bead with open curiosity. The gem sure was small, and yet so neatly polished, so perfectly round. When he compared it to the beads in his hair, Neteyam could feel the objects shared but only the same name. For the simple beauty of the bead was far greater than any accessory the Omaticayas had ever come up with.

“Where do you find them?”

“Some mollusks hold them.”

“Inside their bodies? Like eggs?”

“Sort of.”

“But they’re no eggs.”

“You bet they’re not! I wouldn’t have offered you an egg.”

Neteyam laughed.

“I would’ve had to keep it.”

Then he added, playfully:

“A bet’s a bet.”

Aonung sighed, but laughed in turn.

“Next time, you’ll be the one fetching me a bead.”

“Well, you’d better teach me where I can find them first. Or you might as well wait for the ikran to bend!”

Neteyam regretted the analogy even before Aonung had frowned. He looked back at the sea as if the great stretch of water could be of any help. But it clearly didn’t know what an ikran was either.

“Ikran are the flying beats we arrived on. And they are a bit temperamental.”

“More or less than a tsurak?”

The picture of the long, many-razor-toothed mouth gliding menace froze Neteyam. Why did Eywa allow a creature so inappropriate, and yet so threatening to swim in the peaceful Pandoran sea?

His face must have sold the boy out, because Aonung burst into laughter.

“Well, mount an ilu first, we’ll see for your temperamental rides later.”

That being said, he took Neteyam by the shoulder, and led him towards the centre of the village.

“We have other plans for tonight, anyway.”

“More surprises?”

He had secured the bead in the palm of his hand, not knowing how to attach it to his braid. He should ask later, preferably to someone else than the giver. He didn't want to give Aonung another reason to witness how awkward he was.

“No,” Aonung mused. “Or maybe you will. I don’t know what will be said, and since you’re so easily moved, maybe some of it will surprise you.”

They climbed on an upper root, leading towards the gathering place like a bridge to society. Beneath them, txampaysye swam idly, as if a part of that communal ceremony as well. Aonung smiled:

“Two beads that you’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Three beads that it does not surprise me more than the tsurak mounting.”

Aonung elbowed him. Neteyam nudged him back.

“I still do not know where the beads lie.”

“Well, that’s entirely on you.”

“Four beads that you show me where I can find them.”

“Five that you beg me to.”

Neteyam gave him a half shocked, half mused look.

“Warriors don’t beg.”

“Warriors mount tsurak.”

“I do mount an ikran.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

They had reached the gathering place. It was a small inlet of sand trapped between the mangrove roots, apart from the beach and the docks. The Metkayina had spread in small groups, some families, others in their age-range. Neteyam looked for his parents, who should have not been difficult to spot, but Aonung didn’t give him the time.

“Whether you can mount your ikran or not doesn’t matter here. Because, here, you must follow the water way.”

Neteyam sighed. They were now walking across the sandbank, towards the jungle. And that piqued his curiosity much more than the Mektaniya spiritual advice.

“And what does the water way command me to do?”

He straightaway hated the Lo’ak tone that had just crossed his lips. Maybe he was spending too much time with his brother. Aonung must not have appreciated it either, for he stopped, a few feet away from a large group of Na’vi gathered in a respectful circle.

“To open your eyes and your ears.”

[5and3nevermind]

https://x.com/army__tww/status/1821032988936700057

Not sure what to make of that line "he asked himself if he could ever really love someone" and just the whole response from Pdogg tbh. It's a bit puzzling to me. Makes me wish Jimin was giving his pov instead of a third party speaking on his behalf.

Maybe you could shed some light after reading the article/interview?

Hi anon! I feel like my thoughts are going to be a little scattered. We’ve got the statement about Yoongi (he’s fine, if anyone hasn’t seen it yet; just go look at Weverse), and now this interview that is confusing to me.

Anyway, I’m not sure how much help I’ll be in terms of shedding light on this. There were a few parts of the article that stood out to me.

First of all:

So…Pdogg is clear that the album tells a fictional story. He also links it to Sgt. Pepper which is considered a conceptual album (and that word has come up multiple times now in regards to Muse).

Then we have this, which is the part you linked to:

So…Pdogg says that the album (which he’s already established is fictional) is about looking for an imaginary woman, while Who is about the reality of feeling lonely.

I think the part that surprises me the most is the part you mentioned about him wondering if he can ever love someone. Regardless of what we think about the various ships, I think we’d all agree that Jimin loves Yoongi and the other members and his dear friends, etc, etc. So, I find this statement confusing, even if I set aside my opinions about yoonmin.

Then there’s this:

Pdogg says that while Face was personal, Muse is “more abstract” and isn’t about “Jimin alone.” He relates it to the millennial/gen Z experience.

My initial feeling about Muse—and I’ve seen this opinion expressed by non-shippers as well—is that we aren’t supposed to take any of this literally.

My sense had been that there were two layers to Muse: an (imaginary?) love story, and then a second layer involving the artistic process and finding one’s inspiration (muse).

Pdogg keeps mentioning that the album is conceptual, but he hasn’t mentioned much about that second layer (the muse analogy).

Anon, I wish I could offer you some clarity on this, but I’ll admit: I’m confused. Jimin predicted that there would be lots of theories and he asked us to “please get the wrong idea.” I wish he was here to speak for himself, and it would be wonderful in these uncertain moments if we could see the guys together (all of them).

I hope Yoongi’s ok. I hope someday Jimin will be able to speak to us openly about Muse. I hope the next year goes by really quickly. 😔

I don’t know. I’ll have to let this roll around in my brain some more and see if I have any new thoughts tomorrow. If I do, I’ll reblog this. 😉

[recoveringdreamer]

TIMING: current LOCATION: felix’s boiler room PARTIES: @zombiebabysitter & @recoveringdreamer SUMMARY: a little sad about felix's boiler room situation, charlie stops by to visit his friend. i'm sure you can probably guess how this interaction might end. CONTENT WARNINGS: implications of past domestic abuse

By now, Felix knew that there was something kind of weird going on. Their words were tumbling out in a different way than they usually did, still anxious and uncontrolled but with a new… twist. They weren’t sure if it was a dangerous development, or just a… slightly uncomfortable one. Words were dangerous in a place like this, but it wasn’t like Felix’s new affliction had them throwing around thank yous or promises, right? No more than they normally would have, in any case. Still, it was a little annoying. They weren’t sure they wanted to keep it up.

There was a knock on the boiler room door, and Felix didn’t need to look up to know that it was someone they’d want to let in. No one they didn’t want in their space would knock, after all. They got up, opening the door to reveal Charlie standing on the other side. They offered him a small smile. “Oh, hey Charlie,” they greeted. “Uh, sorry, this place is looking a little… gnarly.” They winced. That wasn’t even a particularly good rhyme. “Uh, you can come inside. Just, you know, it kind of smells like something died.”

—

Some time had passed since he’d learned of Felix’s living situation, of what they had to deal with. But he didn’t judge, he only wanted Felix to know that he cared about them and wanted to know that they had a friend in them if they ever wanted to talk. That’s how he’d come to Felix’s place with a housewarming present. It wasn’t much (well, to Charlie, anyway). He’d gotten them the stuffed lion from the arcade. Not the exact one, just one that looked like it online. “Tada!” He spoke, holding out the large stuffed animal with a bright smile. “Thought it’d fit the vibes.” He wiggled his fingers on his free hand. 

He didn’t notice the rhyme at first, it wasn’t obvious enough. “Smells as if something died is how I lived with Wyatt.” He spoke, pointing a finger in Felix’s direction with a grin. “I’m kidding, dude smells fine.” He waved a hand dismissively. “You should get some string lights, make it a little brighter in here or some shit.” He noted, looking around the place. “I mean if you’re going to live here, might as well go all out, right?” He looked around, and his eyes fell on the ugliest thing he’d ever seen. A fabroget egg, except it was a fucking orange. “What the hell is that?” He asked, walking over to it and staring at it.

_____

The stuffed animal was a really nice gesture. Felix’s chest felt warm, and they found themself feeling almost guilty for feeling so miserable lately. The boiler room sucked, sure, but wasn’t where you slept a remarkably small part of your life? Weren’t things like who you spent time with in your waking hours far more important, far more worthy of focus. “Thanks, man,” they said fondly. “I’ll have to get more of these, so they can start a whole clan.” 

Snorting a little laugh, Felix nodded. With Charlie hanging around, they could almost forget about the whole rhyme thing for a little while. They were pleased to hear that Charlie thought it smelled fine, even if it did make them a little worried about their friend’s sense of smell. It definitely did not smell fine. “Oh, yeah, string lights might be nice,” they mused, looking around the room. “I mean, what I’d really like is to do something about all the… mice.” They lowered their voice a little, as if afraid said mice might hear them. They were so busy glancing around in search of inevitable signs of the little rodents that they missed the direction in which Charlie was heading until his voice carried across the small space. They didn’t look up at the question, squinting at a spot on the wall that might have had mouse droppings beside it. 

“What’s what?” They shimmied around the dirty wall, back to the door. “I’m gonna pull this shut.” The last thing they wanted was for Charlie to get in trouble for being here. “I got a few things, you know, to decorate. I’m kind of hoping it’ll help me to, uh… separate? I guess? Or, ha, at least repress.” 

—

Charlie couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of Felix surrounded by stuffed wild cats. “Next you’ll have to get a tiger, go for all the big cats. Maybe a cheetah and a jaguar.” He wiggled his brows. “Finish it off with a regular stuffed house cat, complete your warrior cat clan.” It was after a few sentences that Charlie realized what Felix was doing. “Are you… rhyming?” He asked slowly, as if he couldn’t quite believe what his friend was doing. 

“I mean, rhyming’s my thing.” Charlie decided with a smirk before moving on. “Oh yeah, mice are no fuckin’ good. Maybe get a live trap so you can set them free outside or something?” He suggested, picking up the orange and squinting at it. “This thing is fuck ugly.” He announced before putting it back down. “I definitely don’t think it makes the place snugly.” He narrowed his eyes at the ugly trinket. “I mean, to each their own, I guess.” He muttered to himself, tearing his gaze from the fabroget orange and back on Felix. “So you’ve been alright, yes?” 

Charlie didn’t realize he was starting to rhyme, continuing to poke at various things with scrutiny. “Yeah, we got to get you a live trap and some string lights. Maybe it’ll drive the mice away with its might.” He frowned, realizing he couldn’t stop. “Why am I rhyming? Don’t tell me that this is binding…”

_____

“Oh, yeah, tigers are cool,” Felix agreed with a grin. “I think jaguars are my favorite, though, they rule.” Though they did, technically, already have a jaguar… Charlie just didn’t know about it. And, with luck, he’d never find out. Bad things happened when humans found out you turned into an uncontrollable jaguar from time to time, after all. Felix didn’t think Charlie would judge them for it or anything, but… He did have a habit of running towards danger instead of away from it. If something happened and Felix hurt him? They didn’t think they’d ever really forgive themself. 

They made a face as Charlie finally caught on to their… affliction. “Yeah, I guess I am a little,” they admitted with a laugh. “Uh, maybe I’m just gearing up to make you answer a riddle.” They continued to busy themself at the door, which needed to be pulled pretty hard to actually shut. If you didn’t do it right, it would swing back open after a few minutes. Part of Felix — the bitter, paranoid part that they didn’t often let see the light of day — thought it might have been an intentional thing, another way of exerting control over them. They tried not to think too much on that. It wasn’t like it did them any good.

With the door properly closed, they turned around just in time to see Charlie pick up the orange they’d bought from Leila. And that was… not ideal. Felix was pretty sure the orange was haunted by a poet, at this point. “Oh, I wouldn’t touch that —” But it was too late. Charlie picked up the glass egg and, when he spoke, it was just as rhymey as Felix’s own words. Felix rubbed their eyes, trying to reorient themself. Maybe Charlie wouldn’t notice! Felix was going to find a way to break the curse, or it would wear off, or… something. “I know there’s… at least one rat. I don’t think it would fit in the same trap. But, you know, I wouldn’t want to get anything with a snap.” 

Charlie noticed. Which, okay, yeah, that was inevitable. People noticed when they suddenly started rhyming all their words! It was a noticeable thing! Felix sighed. “Uh… It’s kind of hard to explain. Like, you think it would be impossible to maintain? But you also can’t really stop. Unless you just kind of let your words drop?” If there was enough time between one sentence and the next, Felix had found that it didn’t need to rhyme. But they hadn’t figured out what that time limit was just yet, and it wasn’t like there was anyone to ask. They were still afraid of Leila, a little. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure we’re cursed. But that probably means it can be reversed! Do you, uh… know anything about magic?”

—

As soon as Felix tried to stop him from touching the ugly thing, it was too late. Charlie inwardly cursed to himself as he realized what he’d done. “Dammit, you mean I’m stuck like this?” He spoke, voice incredulous. Charlie snapped his mouth shut, really keen on not rhyming again. But he was a natural-born talker! How was he to keep his mouth shut. Instead of speaking, he tapped his foot against the floor with a pissed-off expression. “No, I don’t know anything about magic, which is kinda tragic.” He snapped his mouth shut, realizing that he was still rhyming. “Where did you get this thing from? I bet whoever it was, they’re scum…” He crossed his arms over his chest, getting fed up with the whole thing. 

“At least I write music for a living, otherwise I’d be really unforgiving.” He looked toward Felix with an irritated gaze but realized it was misplaced. Felix hadn’t asked to be cursed, but they did have a really bad eye for decor, so they were getting docked points for that. Charlie looked around the room for a moment, then frowned. “I came to apologize in person.” He spoke, letting the silence fill the room so he wouldn’t have to rhyme again. “For the last time I was here, I mean.” He paused again, shrugging his shoulders, giving enough time between sentences again. “So, I’m sorry and I get it if you never want to see me again.” He scratched at the back of his head, struggling to not keep talking. Talking entirely too much was kind of his thing, wasn’t it? 

__

Charlie spoke, voice a little too loud, and Felix couldn’t stop themself from flinching. It wasn’t fair, they knew. Charlie had every right to be upset. Felix should have done a better job at warning him, or should have avoided buying the egg in the first place, or should have… A thousand different ways they could have prevented this flashed in their mind as they shrunk back a little, looking as though they were attempting to become one with the wall behind them. Anger — especially anger of the masculine variety — always made Felix’s heart pound a little harder than it ought to, no matter how well founded it might be. “I — I’m sorry, Charlie,” they said quietly. Wasn’t it funny how Charlie’s name rhymed with an apology? It made him a good friend to someone whose mouth wanted to form the word every time it opened, especially under these circumstances. “It’s not the shopkeeper’s fault,” he said quickly, wanting to defend Leila despite not knowing her well. “I’m sure if she’d known what this thing could do, it’d be locked in a vault. “She’s — I mean, she was nice. I barely listened to anything but the price.” They’d been so uncomfortable, the jaguar in their chest raging against whatever it was about Leila that made them so uneasy. Felix had been so focused on getting out of there that they hadn’t stopped to ask anything about the egg. If anything, this whole thing was their fault.

Irritation was clear in Charlie’s expression, and Felix hated themself a little for the discomfort they couldn’t shake. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair to Charlie. People were allowed to be upset with them, especially when they’d earned it. They had no right to… keep causing problems the way they did. They thought of Beau, of how willing he was to remind them of how pathetic they were. He wouldn’t stand for this kicked puppy routine that Felix didn’t know how to stop. Charlie would, though. He proved as much in his apology, and Felix quickly shook their head. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” they said quickly. “I’m the one who was too stupid to even realize you were coming along. I — I shouldn’t have left in a hurry. I know it just made you worry. I should have been better at hiding. Or just… come to terms with where I was residing. I’ve just — I’ve been acting like a total baby. And that’s not really a good way to be. It just keeps causing problems for everyone who cares. And I just — It’s not right for me to make my problems theirs.” Their voice was increasingly small, the feeling of the world closing in getting more and more unavoidable as they went along. How many people had they pulled into this particular issue now? At best, they were an inconvenience. And at worst… “I don’t mean to be such a problem.”

—

Charlie nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath as Felix reassured him that it was no one’s fault, only bad luck. “Hey, not your fault. You were entranced by gaudy pieces of decor.” Charlie replied, walking over to Felix and crossing his arms over his chest, learning his lesson about keeping his hands to himself and not to touch what didn’t belong to him. “Oh, I’m sure she’s just as cursed as we are if she was the one that had it in her shop. How did she not realize? Or did she not even touch it in the first place?” Charlie thought for a moment, but then decided that he’d had enough of thinking about it. 

Shaking his head as Felix started to berate themselves, Charlie reached out and put a hand onto his friend’s shoulder. “Don’t blame yourself. I made a stupid decision and won a stupid prize on the shelf. It’s not your fault, it’s mine. You have every right to be mad at me and that’s fine. But I’m glad that… you’re not. These rhymes are existentially fraught.” Charlie shrugged, giving Felix a soft smile, letting him know that things were cool between them. “Hey, you’re not a problem.” He paused for a while, waiting a bit before continuing to talk. “You give a new perspective to my life, your words cut me like a knife. and you’re a good friend to hang around. You keep my feet on the ground. Whatever you’re dealing with, you were dealt a shitty hand. got it? Not your fuckin’ fault, and I’m a wordsmith.” Charlie fixed Felix with a serious stare before breaking into an easy smile again. “You’re a good person, got it? I was just too damn nosy for my own fuckin’ good, like a pit. I thought there was a chance you were in trouble, and I couldn’t just sit idly by in my bubble.”

____

Felix shrugged, still looking as though they wanted to plaster themself entirely against the wall. It was their fault, wasn’t it? This was as much their fault as Charlie getting caught up with the Pit when he’d followed them home, or Wyatt thinking it was his job to talk Felix’s way out of their contract, or Felix falling victim to the predatory nature of the Pit and landing the contract to begin with. This was, all of it, a direct result of Felix’s… stupidity. In their head, they were berating themself for all of it at once. For Charlie’s plight, for Wyatt’s, for their own. How many people would wind up caught up in the shrapnel cast out of Felix’s constant explosions of mistakes? How many people would they inadvertently hurt before everyone realized they weren’t worth all the trouble?

“No, I… I should have found some way to give you a warning,” they insisted, unwilling to be let off the hook when they knew they didn’t deserve it. “It’s bad enough that you have to feel like you’re constantly performing. Then I come in, and you get hit with this curse. I just — I think I always make everything so much worse.” People kept telling them that they were a good person — Teagan, Anita, Mona, Charlie — and they weren’t. They weren’t sure they ever had been. Good people didn’t have quite as much blood beneath their nails as Felix always seemed to. “I don’t think I’m a good person. Most days, I just feel like… a burden. Like I’m something everyone else has to carry. And I wouldn’t — I couldn’t blame you for being wary. I’ve gotten you into so much shit already. No one would think you were wrong for feeling unsteady. It wouldn’t be, like… an outrageous display. You know, if you… wanted to walk away.”

—

Face falling as Felix immediately rejected hearing anything positive about themselves, it broke Charlie’s heart that Felix didn’t see the value in themselves. “You? You need to have more faith in yourself. You’re on such a low shelf.” Did that make sense? He was trying. This shit was hard. “You gotta put yourself on a higher level!” He put an arm around Felix, grinning brightly. “What I mean to say is you’re more than you give yourself credit for.” He clapped Felix on the back before taking a step away. “I’m not walking away, I’ve decided to stay in the fray.” He smiled brightly at Felix, deciding he had to prove himself to Felix in his actions instead of his words. 

“I’ll stick by you no matter what!” He exclaimed, walking back over to the orange. “Starting with this damn thing, you think we’ll be stuck like this all spring?” Charlie asked, calling over to Felix as he studied the gaudy trinket. “Like, you have a plan on how to break this? Or are we just amiss?” Charlie looked back over to Felix. “And if I touch it again, what happens then?” He asked, blinking owlishly. He’d decided he was going to prove that he cared about Felix, and he had to prove it somehow. So what better way than trying to break this stupid thing that cursed them? Charlie decided to risk it and pick it up again, then threw it onto the ground. But it didn’t break despite being clearly fragile. “Well,” He said simply, looking back over to Felix and shrugging his shoulders. “Guessing you’ve tried that before.”

____

Charlie was trying to push better thoughts into Felix’s mind, but the bad ones had lived there for so long now that they’d taken root in the kind of way that stuck. The dark tendrils of uncertainty dug into every aspect of the balam’s thought process, reminding them over and over and over again every day of the mistakes they’d made and the people who had suffered because of them. Charlie was just one on a very long list now, and he was still trying to comfort Felix. Wasn’t that part of the problem? Felix was the kind of pathetic that made people want to step in and make them feel better, even when they were the one who’d messed up. “I just… think a lot of people would be better off,” they sighed, looking down at their feet. “I mean, it’s not like I just passed along a bad cough. This could really fuck up your life! It could cause you a whole lot of strife. I always do things like this without thinking. And it’s one thing when I put myself in the hole, but when other people start sinking…” They trailed off with a sigh.

Looking to the egg again, they tried to busy themself with a solution, but… they’d been trying that for a little while now, and they just kept coming up blank. They didn’t have the first clue how to break a curse. Charlie suggested touching it again, and Felix let out a small laugh that was genuine, albeit weak. “I’ve touched it a ton of times,” they replied. “And I’m still speaking in rhymes.” Trying to break it didn’t do much, either; being thrown on the ground just caused a loud sound to echo through the boiler room. Felix flinched at the way it seemed to bounce off the walls. “Yeah, I think it might be… a little more complicated than that. It’d be nice if we could just make the whole thing go splat. But that plan kind of falls flat.”

—

Felix kept giving reasons why they weren’t a good friend, which only drove Charlie to roll his eyes in response. “I’m not better off, you’re just being a goof-off.” He responded quickly, pointing a finger in Felix’s direction to cut off the line of thinking in its tracks before he continued. “You’re my friend, that’s the end. No matter what, got it you nut?” Charlie walked over to Felix and put a hand on their shoulder. “You could have a second head and I’d still be friends with you until we’re dead.” Charlie frowned, realizing that rhyme was a bit more morbid than it needed to be. 

“Anyway, guess I’m stuck like this now. Hopefully, no one has a cow.” Charlie looked back to the thrown egg, a silent cry on his face as he thought of all the implications this would have. God, would Finn put up with him? He sure fucking hoped so. “What if we threw it into a fire?” Charlie suggested, acting like it was a good idea. “Could put it on a pyre!” He wiggled his fingers before bending down to pick it back up and stare at it closely, expecting it to give off a signal that would show him how to be rid of the thing. “What have you tried so far?” He asked. 

__

Charlie was insistent that Felix was being too hard on themself. Wasn’t everyone? In many ways, they thought that was part of the problem. No one else ever seemed to hold them responsible. They messed up, they made mistakes, they ruined things. And then they flinched, or they took a step back, or they shrunk in on themself, and it was forgotten. It wasn’t intentional on their part. Growing up under the roof of an angry man, falling in love with one after the fact… it made you small in places where you ought to be big. It made you uncertain and unsteady, and it made Felix into the sort of person who wasn’t held accountable because they were too pathetic to stay angry at. That wasn’t who they wanted to be. They didn’t want to be a burden, a fragile thing all their friends carried around on pillows or placed in bubble wrap. But if they argued, Charlie would only double down. Everyone always did. So Felix shrugged, still looking down at their feet. Unable to agree, but no longer willing to argue.

At least there was a distraction in play already. The rhyming was a hard thing to ignore, even if it was a little fun once you got into the rhythm of it. “Well, you’ve seen what happens when you try to fix it by breaking,” they said, nodding down to the intact egg in Charlie’s hands. “And not much more really gets done if you try shaking. It seems to be indestructible, and I’m not even sure it’s corruptible. I tried dipping it in paint, but I only managed to make myself feel faint. Lots of fumes. And this is a small room.” They shuddered at the memory. “At this point, I’m not sure what else to do. I’m kind of out of avenues to pursue.” It felt hopeless, though Felix hated to admit that. “If you have any ideas, I’m all ears. There’s gotta be something here that’s not how it appears.”

—

Wanting to reach out and comfort his friend, Charlie decided to let it be. It was no good to have two people set in their beliefs going at it with no change in an end result besides hurt feelings. Still, he put a hand onto Felix’s shoulder and squeezed it. “You’re not as bad as the thoughts in your own head. If that were the case, I’d surely drop dead.” Was all he said, and left it at that before going back to the task at hand, the stupid fucking egg.

“So, what? Are we stuck like this for a few? Is there some kind of curse breaker we could talk to?” Charlie asked, wishing the rhymes would just stop already. It was agonizing. Save it for the lyrics, not… not whatever the fuck this was. At least he wasn’t thinking in rhymes. He’d lose his fucking mind if he did. Wait, did he write in rhymes? His eyes went wide as he opened his phone and sent a random text to Finn about eggs being stupid, and he wasn’t stuck. Thank fuck. 

“I touched an egg and now I’m cursed to rhyme out loud. I don’t… think it’s stuck like this when I type… You’re my guinea pig. Oh, thank god. I’M FREE.”

A wash of relief came over him as he realized he was rambling in a text like an idiot. Well, not like Finn expected any different of him. He put his phone away after hitting send. He’d deal with being yelled at later. “At least I’m free to write as I please, so maybe this will be a breeze?” He was trying beyond all hope to be positive, but it was hard. “So what do we do? Just accept things and be blue?” 

__

Felix had no idea how to go about breaking a curse. The idea of a cursebreaker was good, but they had no clue if such a thing actually existed or not. If it did, weren’t the odds good that there’d be enough overlap with exorcists to make Felix sweat? Just the idea, now that it was in their head, sent an uncertain shiver down their spine. “I don’t know if anything like that exists,” they admitted. “It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d find on Craigslist. But I guess we can look into it, if this… persists.” What were the odds of the curse breaking without intervention? Felix wasn’t sure they wanted to think about it.

They watched as Charlie typed, guilt churning in their chest. If it was something that carried over to typing, it could be bad. Luckily, that didn’t seem to be the case. Felix’s shoulders slumped in relief, and they nodded their head. “Okay, that’s good to know,” they said. “I’m… not sure what else we can do, though. Until we know more, I think we’re just stuck.” They sighed, closing their eyes for a moment. “Which is probably going to suck.” They looked to Charlie again, apologetic. “I’m really sorry I got you caught up in all this crap. I feel like I led you into a trap.” Again. How many times could they mess up their friend’s life?

—

Nodding his head, Charlie knew he’d have to get to work on possible solutions before things went more south than they already had. “I’ll keep an eye out, there’s no need to pout.” Charlie spoke, knowing he was going to get his work cut out for him in the research department. “At least we can type and be fine, otherwise we’d be walking a fine line.” Charlie scratched idly at his face, shaking his head. 

“It’s not your fucking fault, nothing about this makes me halt.” Charlie explained, poking Felix in the chest. “I stuck my nose into things. And yeah, it fuckin’ stings.” Charlie decided lowering his hand back down to his side. “But it’s because I’m the stupid one here.” Charlie simply shrugged his shoulders, walking toward the front door of the boiler room apartment. “That much I know to be clear. I keep getting into shit, and I end up in a pit.” Charlie turned around to give Felix one last look. “I’m sorry for the other day, and I’m sorry about today. You don’t deserve to feel bad, because it makes me sad.” 

__

Silver linings were harder and harder to find these days. Felix used to be able to pick them out with ease, used to be skilled in uncovering them even from the darkest of places. Lately, though, it seemed impossible just to breathe sometimes. They felt as if they were drowning, even with their feet on solid ground. And any time someone tried to throw them a life raft, it was like Felix yanked them into the water, too. How many times had they poured seawater into Charlie’s lungs now? How many rivers had they forced him to inhale? He’d be so much better off not knowing Felix at all. Didn’t they both know that?

“Charlie, come on, we both know this happened because of me.” Felix sighed, shaking their head. “It doesn’t exactly take a genius to see. The same thing keeps happening, over and over again. So… it’s gotta be me, then. Right? I’m not trying to start a fight. It’s just the way things go. You know?” It wasn’t Charlie’s fault that Felix was so pathetic he couldn’t help but follow them home, or try to comfort them in the boiler room. Just like it wasn’t Wyatt’s fault that Felix made him think they needed saving badly enough for him to approach Leo about it. Over and over again, Felix failed to be good enough to convince people to just… let the chips fall where they were supposed to. Over and over again, Felix landed other people in trouble. They were the one at fault. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. But… I started off as a volunteer. Most people do. Nobody forced me. It’s my fault neither of us are free.”

—

Biting at his lip ring as Felix continued to put himself down, he knew he had to tell Felix the truth. He deserved to know what was really going on. “It’s really not.” Charlie finally said, interrupting Felix’s rambling to put himself down. Charlie pointed to the bandage on his right arm that covered his bite. “I’m fuckin’ doomed, Signed my name on the dot, I’m coming back. So I… started acting like I had nothing to lose, don’t cut me slack. Started getting into things because hey, I come back, right? So that’s why, I feel like I’m constantly a bird in flight. I keep living because one day, I won’t be me anymore.” Charlie shrugged his shoulders, falling silent. 

The truth was he knew nothing about zombies. For all he knew, he’d become a shell of himself. He knew that he’d lose a lot of his senses, which scared him. He didn’t want to lose who he was. But what scared him most was the idea that when he continued to live, everyone around him would die of old age while he stayed exactly the same. It terrified him to no end. Charlie frowned, getting lost in his head as the walls around him crumbled. It was becoming harder and harder to keep his head on right, the grief threatening to swallow him whole. 

He blinked, letting the dread and emotions fall back in on themselves. “I can’t think about it, or else I’ll feel poor.” He explained, wiping a hand over his eyes. “My friends were killed by whatever bit me, so… I’m kinda fucked, can’t even flee. There are people here that matter to me, Wyatt, Finn, you, and it’s been a spree. I can’t leave, I can’t stop to grieve. All I can do is keep going forward. Because if I don’t, it won’t be so straightforward.”

__

Felix looked to the bandage on Charlie’s arm, trying to put two and two together. The way Charlie was talking made it click easily enough, even if it was in rhymes. A zombie. He thought of Monty, of Mack, and he shook his head just a little. “You’ll still be you, I think,” they said quickly, wanting to reassure their friend. “Just… maybe a little less pink.” Monty was still a good man, even if his heart no longer beat. Mack still helped them fight off those cow beasts, even if she… ate them a little. Felix didn’t believe that what someone was ever spoke louder than who someone was. They weren’t even quite as wary of fae as they used to be, thanks to their friendship with Teagan. 

Still, he understood a little of where Charlie was coming from. Living life on the edge was easier when you knew how it was destined to end, but it didn’t make you immune from trouble. The things Charlie had gotten into still sucked, still ached. The only difference now was that when he died, he wouldn’t be free of them. Felix hoped the Grit Pit never found out about Charlie’s condition. They’d make a victim of anyone, given half the chance. 

“I’m sorry this happened to you,” they said empathetically, shaking their head. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve been through. I wish there was something more I could do.” But Felix caused problems; they didn’t solve them. Charlie’s current rhyming was proof enough of that. 

—

Charlie gave Felix a small smile, shrugging his shoulders in a silent reply. There wasn’t more than could be said. There wasn’t more that he wanted to say, not when he was cursed to rhyme every single thing he wanted to say. He imagined having any serious conversations after this not going as well with someone who wasn’t Felix, someone who was just as in the depth of things with it as he was. Instead of words, Charlie patted Felix’s shoulder one last time before heading out the door and back to what he had to do, which was the shitty job that he didn’t want, that his big mouth had gotten him stuck with.

“You’re a good one, Felix.” He told his friend with a wave before going on his way to god knew what they would make him do that day. It was nice that he had a small reprieve with Felix. Even if it was his curiosity that had gotten him into this mess, at least he still had a friend in them to tell him what to do and what not to do, to be a haven when it needed to be. 

[dsn-001]

[This time, a shrine offering for classic Moon herself] Her kindness is a perplexing thing. Verse holds one of a thousand identical cranes in his gloved hand. Turns it over, as though its shape will reveal some new insight. A revelation hidden in the crook of its wings, or the weight of the paper. Always giving. Always caring. The OVER never understood it. Gesture after selfless gesture for those around her-- those she hardly knew, but still carried deep in her chest. Attachment. Is it a burden to feel such things? To forever orbit machines like him with so little compassion? With so little time for anything but their own purpose?

Does she know what he does? Has she too, counted every second spent on the lives of others? Painstakingly folding paper cranes. Working to perfect each dish alone in the kitchen. Shopping every window for the gift, just to see a fleeting smile. Every holiday, festival, reaching for a connection. Sharing what she loves in the hopes that someone else will finally reflect her? Was that your wish? Is that what it means to embody the Moon? To be ever stranded on the periphery? He supposed it would be cruel, for someone who feels so much, to be so far away.

This is a small gesture, perhaps not even that appropriate in the face of such musings. There is little else Verse can offer. He cannot comfort her. Cannot feel what she feels.

He can follow directions, he can make exact measurements. A basket with a simple note:

'They are called "pirozhki" or пирожки́.' This act too, is perplexing.

If my Muse was a Deity, what Offerings Would you Leave at Their Shrine?

It was quiet at home again, not unusually so. With most of her siblings out and about on their jobs while she was left to filter through their ever constant streams of data, it left the Song estate.. empty. Moon did her best to aid in the upkeep of her family's abode; the windows were cleaned, the floors swept, the tables and shelves tidied. It wasn't like her current duty required her to do anything physical, so it wasn't a problem.

But after that, there was... nothing to do, really. She cooked dinner (it would be just her and her mother tonight. Moon still found herself making more food than necessary anyway), put away the dishes while her mother returned to her laboratory work, and then there was...

More nothing.

Sunrise, sunset, the rhythm of every day was the same.

The monotony of her life at home didn't make it any less beautiful, though. Sometimes she'd see cranes in the garden, or pheasants, or go to pick wild fruits in the summer time; she could sometimes even say hello to the newborn lambs that belonged to the uncle that lived in the valley of the mountains.

It was peaceful, really. Moon could find comfort in the tranquility of their paradisaical home.

Tonight, there was something she was looking forward to in particular, though. After several days of cloudy skies and rain, the sky was supposed to be clear; with luck, she could maybe use her mother's observatory. Dr. Song rarely used it anymore, not since Moon had taken to spending her extensive spare time in there -- she'd even said it was Moon's now, and she was free to use it as she pleased, but Moon still found it hard to call the building her own.

She wasn't expecting the basket waiting for her, set just so that it'd be the first thing in the moonlight her eyes landed on.

Her core started to race, picking up along with her pace as she hurried over to get a better look.

How very odd -- there was absolutely no sign that anyone had been here recently at all, and yet the buns sitting bundled in the basket were still steaming slightly, as if fresh out of the oven.

Moon's core thrummed harder as she knelt by the basket, picking up the note.

'They are called "pirozhki" or пирожки́.'

She traced over the neat, perfectly written letters with a finger, mouthing the shape of the word as she searched for its proper pronunciation, whispering the name afterwards.

"Pirozhki."

The hushed word was almost awestruck, reverent.

The baked bun was picked up and observed carefully. There was not much fanfare to its presentation, but it was shiny and golden brown; egg glazed, she guessed, just before being baked. The others were similarly made, almost identical in shape and size. Moon took a careful bite.

It was sweet.

The pirozhki was baked to perfection, still crisp and soft, the insides filling her mouth with the flavor of cherry and a soft cheese she'd never tasted before.

Moon sniffled, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes as she chewed. And even when her tears began to flow stronger, plopping into her lap or splashing against her armor, she did not stop until she'd finished the bun, reached for another, and finished that one too.

"Mei?"

The sudden voice at the entrance to the observatory startled Moon into whipping her head around, hastily wiping at her eyes once more. Nezha was home.

"I-I thought you were--"

"Came home early," the other Songbot shrugged dismissively, "the Doctor told me I might find you here." He paused, then, regarding her warily. Moon could recognize the hesitant concern in the squint of his eyes. "...You're crying. What happened."

"I... I'm okay," Moon reassured the younger machine, her face finally breaking into a watery smile as she rubbed her face once more. "I'm just... really, really happy."

Nezha's lips pursed in a slight, uncertain frown. "If you're sure." He only lingered a moment longer, eyes flicking down to the basket before he turned to leave, mumbling some sort of goodbye.

Moon stayed in the observatory a while longer, eating one more pirozhki. There was no way she'd be able to finish all of these; when she was done, the rest would be individually wrapped to preserve as much of their freshness as possible and stored until tomorrow, when she'd give them away to the people she knew, just as she's always done.

The note, though simple, would be kept in a drawer in her room, along with other things she'd gathered or been given over the years. She couldn't throw out a note from.. a friend? Could she even consider him that? Perhaps not aloud, not yet. Maybe one day she could.

She hoped so.